the brightest star
i keep telling alan that i will find him when it is my time to go...
i will look for the brightest star.
he made it to february--the month he likes least of all. 'february is 28 days too long,' alan would say. if any seasonal affective disorder ever hit my alan, it would be in february. he hated february.
his fever keeps going up then down. when it gets high, we place cool cloths on his head and legs.
i still give him his medicines every 4 hours.
he did have a good day jan 30. i got back from my walk and he was right there. i didn't know until i asked him 'how are you' and he answered 'just fine' (or some other 2 word phrase, which i cannot exactly remember because i was so taken aback by his quick, strong reply).
he sounded just like alan.
i haven't heard that voice in months.
i said, 'well, there you are. you're right here with us, aren't you?'
'yes,' he answered, in the voice of the man who has been my friend since 7th grade, the voice of the man who became and remains my best friend, the voice of the man who swept me off my feet, married me and fathered my two beautiful children...
my alan.
he's still in there, goodness bless him.
i have told him it is okay to go.
that we will all miss him more than i can say.
that we will always love him and remember him.
that we will hurt like hell when he's gone.
that we will work through our grief and come out of it 'okay.'
that we will help one another.
that we will follow him one day and await our reunion.
i cannot wait for that day.
i can see him running to greet me and me falling into his arms in joy so intense that the light created from our love blinds even me...
and my brother will be there,
his hand on our shoulders,
smiling
because he always knew, i think,
that alan and i would wind up together.
and my dog gretchen will be there, too...(she was allowed in to our wedding, dontcha know),
and her grandpup sunny,
and brad miller--just because...
but, until that 'heavenly' time
i must wait.
i must care for alan as his body slowly loses its strength.
i must care for my children, as their father dies.
i must care for each of us after he has gone
and help us reach a place where it is again
safe to love,
safe to laugh,
safe to live.
february 1.
goodness bless.
us.
all.
i will look for the brightest star.
he made it to february--the month he likes least of all. 'february is 28 days too long,' alan would say. if any seasonal affective disorder ever hit my alan, it would be in february. he hated february.
his fever keeps going up then down. when it gets high, we place cool cloths on his head and legs.
i still give him his medicines every 4 hours.
he did have a good day jan 30. i got back from my walk and he was right there. i didn't know until i asked him 'how are you' and he answered 'just fine' (or some other 2 word phrase, which i cannot exactly remember because i was so taken aback by his quick, strong reply).
he sounded just like alan.
i haven't heard that voice in months.
i said, 'well, there you are. you're right here with us, aren't you?'
'yes,' he answered, in the voice of the man who has been my friend since 7th grade, the voice of the man who became and remains my best friend, the voice of the man who swept me off my feet, married me and fathered my two beautiful children...
my alan.
he's still in there, goodness bless him.
i have told him it is okay to go.
that we will all miss him more than i can say.
that we will always love him and remember him.
that we will hurt like hell when he's gone.
that we will work through our grief and come out of it 'okay.'
that we will help one another.
that we will follow him one day and await our reunion.
i cannot wait for that day.
i can see him running to greet me and me falling into his arms in joy so intense that the light created from our love blinds even me...
and my brother will be there,
his hand on our shoulders,
smiling
because he always knew, i think,
that alan and i would wind up together.
and my dog gretchen will be there, too...(she was allowed in to our wedding, dontcha know),
and her grandpup sunny,
and brad miller--just because...
but, until that 'heavenly' time
i must wait.
i must care for alan as his body slowly loses its strength.
i must care for my children, as their father dies.
i must care for each of us after he has gone
and help us reach a place where it is again
safe to love,
safe to laugh,
safe to live.
february 1.
goodness bless.
us.
all.