Atomictumor

I’m discovering that I can’t plan my grief.  I wanted to close the door, turn the lights off, take GAC’s pillow and grieve, but I’m too tired.

Its caught up to me, and I’ll sleep hard tonight.  I’ll sleep through the checkups I want to make.  Gary is the nurse tonight, and I had a good talk with him earlier.  He’s good people.

This has hit the unbelieveable stage.  It feels like GAC either is gone for a short while, and will be driving back home soon, or it feels like she was never really there.

That really, really, really bothers me.  I know, intellectually, that its the fatigue preventing me from racking myself with grief, but I want it, because its all I have of her right now.

Shes so far away.

She’s puffy.  Her body is not doing well with the fluids at all.  They’re filling her up, and not coming back out.  She could squeeze my hand yesterday, but she can’t today.  I did hold her hand tonight, I made myself hold that cold hand. The hand that conveyed such tenderness, and emotion.  The hand that created art.  The hand that held her childrens hands, and her husbands hand.  Those sweet fingers that I caressed at night are cold, and fat, and puffed up with fluid.  She can’t move them.  They’re dead weight.

…

I got the feeling from her this evening that she is alternately scared and brave.  I baby her when she’s sick.  I cater to her when she’s well.  I can’t do anything for her now.  I can’t ease her pain with a backrub.  I can’t massage her temples to make it better.  I’m nearly impotent.

She reacts, and she knows when people are there.  Sometimes she moves.  I think that helps her.  I think she likes hearing me.  I love her so much, people.  I love… well, we’ve talked about that.

This may take months.  I typed that slowly, and I looked at each letter.  This may take longer than months.  I want to ask “how can I…”, and I swear I delete it 10 times a post.  Its a dumb question.

I can.  I will. It doesn’t matter how.  Yesterday (yesterday?  Jesus, has this only been 40 hours?) I told MastaG that tomorrow will be Sunday, and the next day will be Monday.  He is amazing to me.  He is strength incarnate.  He took that in his moment of weakness, and made it his.  He knows everything that his mother goes through, and he’s chipper, and sweet, and HIMSELF.  He wants to make me happy.

And thats what I’m doing for everybody else.  I saw Bos and Eaves tonight, because I thought I could help them.  It helped me more to do that, and I think MastaG is cut from the same cloth.  Thats something GAC and I did well, I guess.

I still haven’t taken that pillow.  Its her nightly pillow that she stole from me months ago, one of those nice foam dealies.  I broke it in for her, and she appropriated it.  It smells like her hair…

there are the tears.  Not as much as I thought, but enough to ground me and make me realize that yes, this is real.  This girl I love so much, that I would give anything for, make any sacrifice for, complete any task for, is hurting, and maybe dying.

Only two days are over.  She hasn’t improved in anyway worth telling.  I’m too tired to even run down the numbers now.

I love you, GAC.  I burn for you.  I cherish the days we had, and I beg God for more of them.

I love you so much.

Night.

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 5th, 2006 at 11:15 pm and is filed under Pain. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.