As I write these words, the clock keeps ticking against my will for the next minute and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I would give a part of me to see my wife again, hear her voice and feel her skin, touch her hair, smell the fragrance of her breath, so sweet ...
This month will mark six months since I lost my wife, but it will also be our 27th wedding anniversary. We had known each other for a long time and I was very much in love with her the day she died, just like the first time I realized that she was my beloved 30 years ago.
I recently started reading a book for widowers. After reading the first few pages, I was moved because I could sympathize with the author: we both lost our wives in very similar circumstances and we both fought for their lives until the last breath; however, the life that I shared with my wife changed me in ways that are difficult to explain, even to understand, even by myself; it is like if we had fused into each other. How can that be undone?
Midnight passed.
On June 21, at this very moment, I would have been taking care of her, giving her medications through ports with probes under the skin: dexamethasone, morphine and phenobarbital. I would also change the position of her body to avoid pressure sores. I remember her breathing, her warmth, the calm expression of her face, as if resting and even though I knew she was in her last hours we were both together and I was there for her as promised.
My wife and I were genuinely in love with each other and although she is no longer here, my love for her has not changed at all. We used to have weekly "dates" and they could be as fancy as going to the theater to enjoy the symphony or an opera or as simple and warm as taking a walk in the woods near our neighborhood. We also went to dinner many times without our children; it was just for us to enjoy each others company. I loved those moments! How sublime it was!
When we watched a film, or a documentary together we weren't just watching movies together, we sat side by side skin-to-skin holding hands like two little children loving each other tenderly, or I would massage her feet or be resting my head on her thigs; I loved that!
Our intimacy had everything a man and a woman can do to feel loved, without limits, free. We also enjoyed having fun and tender moments. We joked with our children saying, "Mom and Dad are having a romantic shower! Please don't bother us!!!" - "Disgusting!" they would shout.
Those showers were special! She liked very hot showers; me not so much, but I would get used to the hot water after a couple of minutes. We took turns bathing our bodies, every inch, and then we would fuse in a long hug as the hot water ran through our bodies. How can I forget that?
Did we have dark days? Yes, of course we did but we never question our feelings for each other and we always worked at listening and understanding one another. This was our secret, besides I thought that she was the most beautiful person in the world! Every love relationship needs to be maintain, take care of; it is like a tree, with no water, nutrients the tree will die. Our tree was very healthy when she started her journey into the next life.
Christina and I always did something special on our anniversary. On that special day of the year we would go to Cypress Mountain or Manning Provincial Park for a long walk in the snow. After our walk we would have dinner either at a restaurant or we would cook something really special. Last year we went to Manning Park, so this year I will recreate that walk as a tribute to her memory and the love I feel for her.
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