At 6:05 a.m. it was 7 months since my husband passed. I am not sure how I have gotten through the last 7 months or how I am going to get through the next 7 months. I thought when we got older and our children were grown and on their own, life would be so much less complicated. We would be able to travel, eat out, just enjoy being together with none of the pressures of raising children and working. I guess I do understand but don't like the way life turns out. We love each other so much and 46 years just went by in a flash. I don't think I want to go on without him. If my daughters knew how I feel they would be in a panic. I can't tell them because they worry enough about me now. I can barely eat. I get to sleep by taking a sleeping pill, an anti-depressant, a muscle relaxer and 3 Tylenol PM and sometimes 2 Benadryl. This combination puts me to sleep and keeps me sleeping most of the night.
I am still angry with my husband for leaving me, with God for taking him, and with myself for not realizing that he was so gravely ill. Maybe had I taken him to the hospital where he had his transplant, maybe he would have gotten better. I can still picture him laying in that hospital bed, before they sedated him completely, and asking me to "please help me." I thought I was doing everything that I possibly could do but maybe that wasn't enough. The only thing that I am sure of is that I am waiting for the day that I am with him again. In the meantime, I don't know how to go on without him.