The evening Coco left Marcia's room. Excerpts from my upcoming book.
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| Ovarian Cancer; Husband Grieving |
Jack Covington glanced up as the pounding rain hammered the hospital window, like tears falling from heaven. Suddenly, a flash of lightening, then a crash of deafening thunder. The building nearly shook.
His wife neither moved nor stirred.
It was then he understood just how weak she had become All the tubes hanging off her emaciated body, piercing her arms and chest made him grasp the inevitable. Her battle with ovarian cancer would soon be over—she had only days or hours to live.
“Dad, I probably ought to go,” Ellen stood.
“Of course, you need to head home and get some sleep. Why don’t you let me walk you out to the car?”
“Are You sure?’
“Absolutely. And besides, I don’t want you going out in that parking lot by yourself.”
“Thank you.” She turned to face her mother, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you Mom.” Her eyes never opened.
“Tom should be here when you arrive tomorrow,” looking at her. “He hopes to leave Charlotte by nine, and maybe make it here by early afternoon. I want to make sure you two have some good time with your mother.”
Ellen looked at him. “I’m sure we will Dad. I’m sure we will.” She picked up her purse, “ I only wish Mom could be there for Tom’s wedding.”
“Me too…” And with that he walked over and hugged his daughter. Me too.
One final glance confirmed that his wife was sleeping peacefully. Please don’t leave me tonight. Smiling for his daughter, he put his arm around her and walked her out.
Stepping back inside from the rain, the foyer was nearly vacant except for a few employees. Visitation time had come to a close. Approaching his wife’s room, he stopped outside the door to verify the room number—a number etched deeply into his mind. He sighed, dropped his shoulders, place his hand on the cold doorknob and stepped back inside the hospice room.
She was softly breathing under her warm blankets. The IV machine was making a constant purring sound, pumping the important fluid into her veins. Carefully, he crept around the mechanical bed and sat down on the sleeper chair. He heard the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Unexpectedly, she cracked open her empty eyes and stirred with apparent pain and then drifted back to unconsciousness. Her dear face appeared peaceful once again.
Jack Flashed back to all the days they’d had together. There had been joyous ones and difficult ones, and these final days. The journey the last four years, from her devastating diagnosis to this dark night had been very long and arduous. He recalled multiple surgeries, countless rounds of chemotherapy, days of despair, times of suffering and precious few moments of hope. In all of this, his wife had always remained externally strong.
Until now.
It seemed she was giving up. Death was at the door.
Visualizing their journey brought emotion to his eyes while he sat perched next to his wife’s deathbed, consumed by the moment and his growing solitude. He wanted to control the tears, but had lost the will to fight them. They went from a trickle to a steadier pace as they began to stream out one-by-one, crashing to the floor from his eyelids to their demise—mimicking the deluge outside in the darkness. His heart ripped in two. Sleep eluded him for hours, until he fell mercifully off to sleep to the steady ticking of the wall clock.
The Pain Experienced by Those Left Behind; Larry Puls; (Click to Tweet)
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Coco's Journey
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