Loving and Living Alzheimer’s

 28 days.... He has been gone 28 days and I don't know how I feel.  Don't know how I  should be feeling. Widowed... Can't begin to wrap my brain around what this means, What this is,  What this says about me. I've been grieving for well over 3 years.  Grieving as the love I married drifted away and was replaced by a love requiring maternal protection. I have moments.  Moments where his absence brings me sadness.  Where his empty side of the bed provokes anger.  Where I plan for a future he never gets to see and the weight of how wrong that is almost swallows me. And I feel guilt.   Because I am eager to begin my future.  Because I am excited about what I see in front of me. Guilt because I get to pursue a happy life while he had to lose his. It is in these moments I have to remind myself how lucky  Randy and I were to have been afforded the opportunity to discuss what was coming, what he wished for... and how desperately he wanted me to find happiness again. What an ama

4AM on the eve of the day we will put Randy to rest next to his Mother. I am still in shock that we are here. That he is gone from our lives.   From this world. It is so wrong. In the span of 6 days, we went from believing we had 12 months, to a couple of weeks, to a few hours. Did we say goodbye enough?  Did he feel the love that surrounded him as he left this world? I pray his Mother's face was the first beautiful sight he saw as he entered those pearly gates. While these things plague my mind, I am grateful that his passing was peaceful. Randy never felt pain or physical illness.  He was happy and playful in the days leading up to his final journey home. He was spared what would have been the most excruciating part of this disease, only spending 6 days of his beautiful life in a hospital bed. He was a truly amazing man.  Kind and loving.  No one who ever met him didn't fall in love with his zest for life and that exuberant smile. I am better for knowing and loving him.  Bett