Number 214

 Year Nine

Nine year ago, today, was a bad day. My wife Rebecca died, you see? I'm sorry if you want details (not really), but I'm not in the mood to provide them. If you really want to know, I'm sure I've written the whole sordid tale on previous 'death day' posts, so happy hunting.

In fact, I'm a little bit lost finding words to describe what I'm feeling today. Part of me feels like I'm supposed to feel miserable today, but grief doesn't work that way. Those of you who have experienced the loss of a spouse know what I mean. If you haven't, count yourself lucky, and just accept what I say as the truth. 

I've often joked (in my morbidly sarcastic, but none-the-less accurate way), that at least she died before a certain psychopathic narcissist became president. I thought I'd retired that joke in January 2021, but I guess it's even more relevant today than ever. Unfortunately, I think the 'joke,' such that it is, is on the rest of us right now. ha-ha.

I continue to mourn for our two daughters, as well as the son-in-law and grandchild who will never get to know her. 

I'm still angry at the pompous dipshit masquerading as a doctor who completely disregarded her (medically informed) concerns about lymphoma, thus delaying her diagnosis (and subsequent treatment) by up to a year. Would it have made a difference in the long run? Who knows. But it surely wouldn't have hurt any. 

Then there's the two surgeons who understood much better me that her life was down to its last hours, but were too chickenshit to disabuse me of my erroneous thought that she had years, perhaps decades, left. I would have stayed by her side until the end instead of leaving her all alone at the hospital the night before she died.

I would love to be able to forgive these three folks. I've considered it a great deal over the years. But I can't quite do it. I'm not sure why. I have chosen forgiveness many other times, so I understand the healing benefits of doing so.

And that's it. I don't have a tidy conclusion on tap to wrap this all up in a neat package. I've got nothing profound or inspirational to say. It kind of sucks, doesn't it? Sort of like being left behind when your wife dies.