Saying goodbye

Norah Jones sings in my ears, “Summer days are gone too soon”.

So right.

“Shoot the moon and miss completely.”

I’m barely here.

One of Kim’s relatives sent me a text the other day, thinking about Kim’s last days on earth.

“Four years and 1 day since we lost Kim,” she wrote.

Too true.

It’s not that she didn’t know the exact date of Kim’s death. Four years ago tomorrow.

But the Kim I said goodbye to four years ago tonight wasn’t Kim. Not the amazing woman I’d been lucky enough to be married to for two dozen years.

“I know her actual anniversary isn’t for a couple of days,” the text continued, “but the Kim as we all knew her was gone.”

Norah sings , “now you’re left to face the gloom – the empty room that once smelled sweetly.”

I reach over and put my hand on Kim one last time.

Knowing it will be the last time.

I’ve spent the last few days in the room with her squeezing her leg and letting her know who has come to visit her.

They’ve come to see her one last time.

To say goodbye.

Then it’s my turn.

To say goodbye.

And so I put my hand on her one last time.

Knowing it will be the last time.

Published in: on August 22, 2020 at 6:34 pm  Comments (2)  

Today

Four years ago today was my last full day with Kim.

How might you live your day if it was the last day you have with someone special.

How you might live your day if it is not.

Just another day of building a life together.

Live today like it’s both.

We did.

Published in: on August 18, 2020 at 9:12 am  Leave a Comment  

August

February was a tough month for me and Kim.

Our month of eating cookies.

I say February – but really it depends on February containing 31 and every fourth year 32 days. February extended through Elena’s birthday on March 3.

In our heads the cookies bolstered us for February 22nd, the anniversary of Elena’s death.

In reality, they didn’t.

And so, in the nearly four years since Kim died, I’ve stopped commemorating February with an endless supply of cookies.

But now there’s August.

And by August I mean the month that begins on August 8th – our wedding anniversary – and ends on September 8th – Kim’s birthday.

August doesn’t feel like a cookie type of month so I face August 23rd, the anniversary of Kim’s death, without them.

It’s also complicated. Kim’s accident was days before. It was soon clear that she wouldn’t survive. So the 23rd was the day she was taken off the machine but it’s hard to say what day was her last.

This year Maggie and I were in Oberlin on August 8th. We drove by Fairchild chapel where Kim and I were married. It was such a hot day all those years ago and I remember so much about it.

I guess I use memories like those to get through this month.

Cookies may be a better idea.

 

Published in: on August 17, 2020 at 11:10 am  Leave a Comment