The Struggle Is Real

I’ve been struggling with the last chapter of my book. 

In full disclosure— I’ve been struggling with everything. There is something to be said for watching the one you’ve planned on forever with fade. It’s different then having someone you cherish ripped away in an instant. It’s a slower torture. It’s a grief that’s served up everyday, for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert.

I can’t tell you how to grieve. No one person seems to do it the same. One person can grieve a singular event in different ways. For example: I’m grieving for my kids, because I’m a daughter and I can’t fathom not having my dad. To this day I call him to ask the most ridiculous questions. My girls won’t have what I have. It’s a fact. But, then at the same time I’m grieving as the wife of a man who has given me the most beautiful life. We have built so much, and he won’t even get to watch our hard work continue to pay-off. I grieve for his mom, because as a mother— I cannot even begin to fathom her loss. Her and I have grown close through this journey and for that I’m thankful. 

I’m watching a man once so familiar, once what I called home, slowly fade into something I don’t recognize. I am by him while he dozes off halfway through a sentence or forgets a thought. I’m with him as his words gets slower, and his rest becomes more prevalent. I watch day in and day out a man accepting of his fate. A man not scared for what’s coming quickly. 

I’m watching, but I’m scared. I’m watching, but I’m not accepting of much. The only thing I’ve come to terms with is that I have no choice, but to come to terms with it. 

The first month of Hospice hasn’t brought me much comfort. The quality we sought in lieu of extra time, doesn’t exist. But, we’ve been trying to just soak in the family time we have daily.

The days grow harder. All my hopes have dissipated and all my fears have come to fruition. 

I’m struggling to write the last chapter of my book, because it is the last chapter of my life with my best friend. My husband. It’s the last chapter of my girls having the physical presence of their father. The struggle of accepting that— is real.