The Cancer Wife. The Cancer Widow.

The last few weeks have been brutal. Late nights. 

The anxiety in the house was palpable. 

We watched a ton of Hallmark. Laid together. I worked from his bedside. Wiped his tears. Said “it’s alright” and “you’re okay” time and time again. 

Matt is a warrior. 

There is no denying the fact that he surpassed every expectation. He was the most supportive husband. A relentlessly dedicated girl dad; only further proven by the assortment of Macy's dresses in both of my daughter’s closets. 

Against the recommendation of Hospice, I continued to insist Matt stay at home under my care. It was all he wanted. No matter how exhausted, I owed him the right to stay home. 

And home he stayed. Through all the tears and struggles he stayed home. He wandered the house with his walker and my hands around his waist. His mom came, my parents came, his dad came. He listened to the kids run wild through the house. 

He fell a few weeks back and fractured his shoulder. That got him stuck in his hospital bed. He couldn’t stand being confined. 

Matt wasn’t made to be confined. Disney Dads were made to be moving.

His pain has been increasing. 

Last night he went into cardiac distress. After a bunch of rigamarole— a little after midnight he was resting. My dad stayed by me, then by Matt when I went to lay down for a few minutes.

I told him I loved him, I kissed his forehead. He was so warm. Between the cardiac distress and the anxiety he had just overcome, it felt like he was overheated.

I told him I was calling in the next day to lay with him and watch his favorite Hallmark movies while he recovered. 

I fell asleep. My dad went home, since Matt seemed comfortable. 

I woke up and before four o’clock this morning to find my best friend, my husband, the doting dad— was gone. I watched a final exhale. His hands folded on his lap. 

My oldest said goodbye to her best friend. Her partner in crime.

My baby will never know him as she should.

The pain is unbearable. There was no way to prepare. 

I haven’t caught my breath. 

When they took him, I instantly regretted it. I wish they’d bring him back. I hugged his pillow. There is no peace. Only heartache. 

All Matt wanted was another Christmas. There is nothing that will make it better. Our hearts are broken.

I’m no longer a cancer wife. I’m now a cancer widow.