What Could Have Been Any Different?

What could have been any different? Or any better? What more could Sharon have done? She hung in there so long. I can’t imagine her gearing up for any more rounds of illness and recovery. She just didn’t have the last fight in her. I wasn’t ready for her to quit, maybe she was.

I could hear her breaths getting shallower and fainter. I just wanted to comfort her, but didn’t feel it was working. I put on the music to soothe her. I lay next to her and held her hand. I said all the words I knew to give her faith in her soul’s existence. I didn’t buy any of what I was saying, so I doubt she did either.

OH GOD. All I have now are memories. And all they do is make me cry. I’m hurting my eye with tears, and my whole body just gets weaker because I can’t find the will to do much of anything. I can’t give up yet, I have to try to keep doing things. Telling myself the things I’m doing are worthwhile, necessary. If I could just sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep. I wouldn’t mind living, but it involves so much pain.

I’m not in massive physical pain, just the nagging little kind that tells you you’re old and will most likely not get any better. You’ll just learn to live at this level until you drop down to the next one. Somewhere along the way, spiritual understanding is supposed to kick in. The gratitude for all things that are still “OK.” Or a shift in perspective would take place, that all is OK, despite appearances. This hasn’t happened yet.

I’m still the same old entitled, self-centered ego guy that used to be quite a bit better off and didn’t realize it. Now I realize how good I had it. So many things I took for granted, now ripped away from me. My whole center is gone. Though I despised my role and felt that I was forced into it, now all I can do is cry about this little thing or that little thing that she would have said, or did or thought. About this or that or anything and everything. She gave me a focus, and even if it was something I felt I’d be better without, it was my identity.

Now how am I supposed to live? I am freer than I have ever been in my life. To do whatever, whenever. And I just wish I could crawl back to a month and a half ago and have a few more minutes of that, please. OH GOD.

Just get through another evening. Another meal and TV show. Another toothbrushing and tea. Whatever little things I do, filling up the empty slots until I can sleep. Maybe I’ll sleep a few hours, maybe. Maybe tomorrow will be a little better, maybe. Maybe not. I’d have to bet the second, given entropy’s track record.

I planted some stuff in the garden today. I’ve been tilling the soil and making flower beds and some areas for vegetables. Some of the sunflowers I planted last week have sprouted. I am doing this for her. She saw that I was enjoying watering flowers last spring and she bought some seeds. And a couple of urns for planters. And a gazing ball and a Buddha statue. She was always wanting to buy me whatever she thought I’d like. So now I just have more things to remind me of her. I hope the flowers do well. I’ll do my best to take care of them.