After 3 weeks in the hospital and one week of radiation, Michael came home two days ago. It was a relief for me to have him home.

Every night since he’s been in the hospital, bedtime has been my time to cry. I have been crying myself to sleep every night for the past 3 weeks. On Friday night I put him to bed and then crawled in next to him. I put my hand on his stomach and patted him and he was too tired to pat me back as he normally does. The routine goes like this: I lean over and pat him, he puts his hand on mine and pats mine and then he says, “I love ya dear” and I say “I love you too honey.” and that’s our goodnight.

When I pat him and there was no pat back, I realized he was asleep. He has always had a sleep disorder and never falls asleep before me. But he fell asleep between the time I helped him into his side of the bed and when I got to my side.

And the tears started to fall. They ran down my the sides of my face and I tried hard not to make any noise. I just listened to him breathe.

Living my life without him…without his steady presence…is incomprehensible to me.

I am independent, he is independent, but we have always been interdependent…and part of me that relies simply on him being there day after day is struggling with the idea that he won’t be.

But the past two days I have simply enjoyed being with him. I can’t tell which route to take…stay mindful of the fact that he’s very sick and his prognosis is poor…or enjoy each day, each minute that I have with him….I tend to swing between each mindset.

I don’t want to be miserable when I’m with him but I sometimes feel that I cling to him like a drowning person clings to a life preserver in the open sea. You know it’s not going to save you but what else are you going to do?

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