I have not been keeping up with my posts. Life has been difficult. My husband passed away two months ago. Towards the end it was brutal. I felt pushed to sign off on ‘end of life’ drugs. The doctor advised me over the phone there are 3 stages.; My husband had been in stage one for a very long time; three years. We advanced meds to help him rest and he entered stage two but that was challenged by every nurse and care aid at the Home.

“He is so sick. He groans at night.”

They called it bleating like a sheep. He kept the other residents awake calling for me, calling for help. I was told there was a circle of support who was waiting to swoop in and help us deal with ‘end of life’. I asked Dave if he was done and he said he would breathe until he could not anymore. I refused the pain meds to keep him asleep until the end. That is what Dave wanted. He went blind about a month before and it took me three weeks to get staff to put it on a chart that he could not see. They did not believe me.Stupidly asking if he was enjoying the show he was watching. One care aid stood in front of him and asked, “What colour is my shirt?’ he said, green. She looked at me smugly and said, “I told you he can see.”

When she left I asked him what colour shirt I was wearing which was white. “Green.” he said. We laughed and he told me she always wore green. He did not want to admit he was coming to the end. He wanted to stick around to take care of me. After 3 or 4 conversations abut the drugs that would give him peace he said to stop asking him. Finally, he could not stop crying as he was in so much pain. He had stopped eating and drinking. His body was breaking down; bruised and thin. I asked him one more time and he whispered, “I cant stand the pain anymore.”

It was like an old game show and I chose door number one. They came in and gave him the pain meds. He held my hand. He told me he loved me. He went to sleep. His breathing was shallow but they said it could be weeks still or at the very least days. I left and went back the next morning to see him. He had not woken and looked peaceful for the first time in months. I gave him a kiss and said, “See you later.”

I thought we would have more days to hold his hand, to tell him we loved him but within an hour I got a call. The nurse said Dave was dying and to come right away. I had been preparing for this for three years but the shock of those words dropped me to my knees. I took a breath, got up and phoned my son who said he was on his way to get me. My daughter in law and two of the grandkids were close by and turned up as well.

I knew there were not going to be any last words. His last words to me 24 hours earlier were, “I love you’.”

The five of us took turns holding his hand. We told funny stories and we laughed. But mostly we cried. Not a religious man at all, when Dave’s dad was dying we had waited for Dave to say goodbye. When he got to the hospital that day, he took is dad’s hand in his and said The Lord’s Prayer. I was surprised. His dad passed as we said Amen. I knew that was an important moment for him and so we all held hands and said the prayer. I wish I could say we were aware of the moment he passed but we were not. We kept checking to see if he was alive and then he wasn’t. We called the nurse and she confirmed that he was gone. The family left. They could not stop crying and wanted to give me a moment alone. I sat with him for awhile. I thought he moved but when the nurse came back in she said no. I kissed him, told him I loved him and walked out.

My family shielded me as we walked out. I did not want to see anyone or have to talk to anyone. I just wanted to go home.The last two months have been hard. I am a strong woman. Losing him after 56 years of marriage is the worst pain I have ever felt. I have lost many. By the time you are 75 that is part of life. Losing a life partner and best friend is heart wrenching. Dave was my biggest fan, supporter, and love of my life. Where do I go from Here?

So far I have been to a Memorial we planned for him that was beautiful. I put funny pictures and nice ones of him all around. His ashes were in an urn that once held my sister’s ashes. My son, daughter, a good friend and I all spoke. Telling funny stories and remembering what a great man Dave was. The reality sinks in when all the love is gone. Family go home. The death certificates have to be distributed, the phone calls made to pensions and debt holders. Still you think, “I am managing this. I am doing well.”

I am not. The bank called today. I cannot pay Dave’s debts. I went in the hole $1300 a month for three years keeping him at the home. I cashed in a life insurance policy that I had on me. Dave was my beneficiary so I felt I should just use the money to get through. A $25,0000 policy gave me $6,400. I opened a new bank account. In my name. That was my cushion because I knew it would get ugly. Death is difficult when the credit card companies and banks find out you cannot pay them back. They were not my debts. They were Dave’s. I have my own debts, mortgage and a life yet to live.

Nothing has been easy. One bank would not accept the death certificate as real. After his Line of Credit was closed, the bank today took his payment out of my account. They can’t do that. A couple of credit cards have gone to collections. There is no estate. That will not stop the bloodhounds though from trying to collect. I have been jumping though the hoops. I’m ashamed I cannot pay. I could sell the house but the mortgage is cheaper than the rent I cannot afford. I got a couple of small refund cheques I had trouble depositing as there were in Dave’s name. One bank told me if it does not say c/o in my name how can they cash it? I might be money laundering. The government might freeze my account. What? The new one in my name where I stashed the insurance money that belongs to me?

Being a child of poverty I still carry that shame. In grade twelve the teacher said,” All those on welfare stay to get your free books.” I was the only one who did not get up to leave. Guys threw pennies at me in the hall. I was horrified because I thought they knew I was poor. A wiser friend explained they thought I was a slut.That made me happier. Without writing another book I cold go on with more samples. Unlocking the Tin Box covered that topic in detail.

I’ll get through this. Maybe they will put leans on my house. I have a mortgage until I’m ninety. Who cares? None of it matters. I lost Dave. None of it matters.