Lessons from Lou

This blog is about my journey through the brain tumor world with my dear husband, Lou. While not a journey I would wish on even my worst enemy, it is a journey that has enlightened and awakened me to what lies within us, and around us, each and every moment of each and every day. There are lessons here....lessons in this journey.....lessons from Lou....that I would like to share with you.

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Location: Chicago, Illinois

Picture of Lou (sick) and I at a party, circa 2005, long ago and faraway. I'm now a middle aged widow, trying to get my life back together. Mother of two young adult sons, living with two adult cats.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

FOR EVER

This was the week it hit me. This is FOREVER. And that forever means FOR EVER. I will never see Lou again, in this lifetime. That's what hit me this week, for some reason. Must be the two month mark coming up. On Halloween, no less. Two months. That's just a blink of an eye compared to what stretches before me. And what is now behind me. I study the last picture taken of Lou, a week before he died. We are laying in bed, snuggling. My hands are cradling his face. And he is swollen from the steroids. But he is smiling. Even in that state, he was smiling. I stare at the picture, wanting to get back IN it. Wanting to breathe life into it. Wishing I could touch him. So badly wishing I could touch him. How many times have you heard that saying, "Nothing is forever", right? Not true. This is forever. This is forever, for real. It's a very, very long time to ache.

2 Comments:

Blogger Sue said...

Cathy
SO glad to hear from you agai yet so sorry that the reality of "For Ever" has hit. It is a very long time. Don't every let go of that last picture because no one can take that picture, that last touch, that last snuggle, that last smile away; that is what keeps you going my friend.

7:36 AM  
Blogger Claudia said...

Oh, my dear friend Cathy, you are so right about how long forever really is. Some days I think that I cannot face another moment of this life now without seeing Rob's face or feeling the touch of his hand. Like you, I look at old pictures of us together and realize that there is hardly one where he is not touching me -- his hand resting on my shoulder in almost every shot. I would give anything to feel that hand again, or to hear his voice say my name.

And it is FOREVER!! That blessed numbness that blocked our awareness of how long we would be without them ends far too soon and the reality of how long the rest of our lives will be just looms in front of us like a dreary cloud.

The only thing that keeps me going most days is our sons and our granddaughters, who truly carry a part of him with them, in their genes and their mannerisms and their eyes and chins and grins in a way that I do not. And I think when I am with them that there are times -- split seconds -- when it is like being with him again. So for now, I live for those seconds and moments when I am in his presence again. And I think that my own death will not be such a sad thing -- not that I am rushing toward that -- but just that I will be so glad to be with him again.

My heart is sad with and for you today and for each of us who have loved deeply and been parted from our loved ones by death, like our friend Michelle. It still feels like we have been cheated. We kept the promise we made when we took those wonderful men into our lives. So many do not keep the promise and yet their lives continue, while our lives feel broken -- a break that can never truly be repaired. It does mend enough to let us go on living -- just without the same sense of joy that we had before.

Oh, my dear friend Cathy ...

12:41 PM  

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