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I began writing one of these each day, beginning December 2015 to ease my grief and start each day with some hope and joy. The hope and joy would last for awhile and then I would be back in the throes of deep, dark misery. I recommend these emails that are never sent as excellent therapy. I have written 602 of them in the 2 and a half years since I lost my Nancy. Here is today's letter to Nancy.
Letter to My Nancy 602 Sun., Oct 15th, 2017 without you
Good Sun afternoon my other half. My most important half. My lady! I sit here at 2:25 on a Sun afternoon thinking of how much I need you here, to be with me as I ponder whether or not I am seriously ill. My stomach is causing more discomfort and of the possibilities, the most threatening and worrisome is Cancer. I have been having
pains in my abdomen and pencil thin stools, although no blood. My gastroenterologist Dr. Nelson says I do not have colon cancer but agrees its been over 10 years since my last colonoscopy and that I should have at least one more. So, I will on Dec. 20th..and you won’t be there, holding my hand, waiting in recovery like we always do for each other. I will be alone…oh, well, I will have Jeff Hunt, thank God for exceptional friends like him. He will take me, wait for the procedure to be done then take me home and probably sit with me for awhile to make sure Im OK. Maybe we’ll
drop by Hardees for breakfast as the procedure is scheduled for 7:45 am. 5 days before Christmas day, alone without you there. I do not want to be celebrating Christmas another year. just like I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas last year and the first year without you in 2015. Or, Thanksgiving day or my birthday. I will always , as long as I am alive celebrate your birthday and. of course, our anniversary. I have been forcing myself to remain busy today and yesterday. the weekends are horribly lonely, desperate times that feel as if they will never end. The weekends are the days I hope I will die sometime in the hours between midnight Sat am and midnight Monday. Just close my eyes and wakeup staring at you in front of me. My dreams are all in that wish. I relied on you so much. My angel, wife, confidante…all the good things, the best things I could find in life for 24 golden years with you. Now there are no more golden years to anticipate, no hand holding, lip kissing, childish laughter time and silly talk time we used to love with such relish. My life has ended. All I can do now on this broken Sunday is what I do on every broken Sunday for the past 2 and a half years is pray for release. I remember pushing you to the fireplace at Friendship rehab in your wheelchair, before the dementia crept in to our lives. the poisonous dementia that wouldn’t let go, like a gila monster with a deadly gnawing bite. I knew it was the dementia talking when you said I was mean to you and was a bad man….The tears burned as they ran down my face..some nights after Judy, Your aide, went home, I would hide and cry. Many nights I would have to stop long enough to minister to you and be your caregiver, trying my best to make you comfortable with a kiss and a third blanket on one or two very cold January nights. Still, when your voice called me a bad man, I knew it wasn’t you, I knew you loved me as deeply as a human being could love another human being..the same as I loved you..you were just caught in that spider web of dementia, and it would never let you go. I would start to cry again. I will cry often, even after 2 and a half years until I am with you again, somewhere beyond the highest mountaintop. I will take your hand and cry again…for joy knows tears as well except These tears do not burn. I will see you then. and that is when I WILL LOVE YOU FOR ALL OF ETERNITY. I will write again tomorrow and see you in my dreams
The Big Man