Sunday
I awoke to the phone ringing at 5:40 am. My neighbor was calling to say that Jacob had awakened, and she didn't have any formula to give him. (He was only 10 months at the time, so he wasn't yet drinking milk.) I walked across the street and brought my baby home.
It was a rainy day, and I was exhausted from the previous day, so when Jacob fell back asleep, I took the opportunity to sleep as well.
We woke up around 9, and I started calling Joe's cell phone. There was no answer for hours. Finally, around noon, he called me. He had just been given a room. For almost 24 hours he had been lying next to the nurse's station. He was beyond exhausted, and told me that he just wanted to sleep. I told him that I wanted to visit him, but he said not to bother, just to let him sleep.
My school had just been completely rebuilt, and the dedication ceremony was that day. I was on the committee that planned the day, so I decided that I may as well go to the ceremony with Jacob.
After the ceremony I took Jacob shopping. Joe called me while we were at the mall. He said that the doctors were still unsure what was wrong with him, and when he would be coming home.
When I got home I put Jacob down for a nap. I called Joe and asked for an update.
"I'm really sick," he said.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"They don't know," he answered.
I sunk down into his chair, and began to cry.
"This is so hard. I need you here."
"You can do it. Try to stay strong. I've gotta go," he replied.
I don't have many regrets in life. But one of my biggest by far is not going to visit Joe that day, three years ago. I just had no idea how bad it was about to get.
I can't even believe it was three years ago. This whole retelling makes me realize how much it feels like yesterday. It's that clear. I even remember what I was wearing, what Jacob was wearing, what I fed him that day, the way my stomach lurched when Joe said that he was really sick, the smell of his leather chair, the sound of worry in his voice, the helplessness that I felt.
And the statement I made, "This is so hard. I need you here." It rings true now more than ever. I can't believe he never got to come home. He knew I needed him here, and he didn't come home.
Thanks for reading.
-b
10 comments:
b.... may I suggest that after you retell Joe's story (which really is very much your story too) that you repost the article from Joe's doctor please? I found it quite powerful and heartfelt and perhaps some new readers haven't seen it.
And I really do understand about regrets.... and I totally get what your saying. I guess they are our evidence of caring, conscience & empathy -- all good things:))
You have a true gift in getting your thoughts and feelings "on paper".
Thank you for that!
{{HUGS}}}
in_the_clover
Oh B. What to write?
By sharing your story, you are helping someone else, I know it.
You are a brave woman. I am glad to know that you have many people in your life that love you.
And the regrets...I know they burn, I have some of my own, but you did your best at that time with the information that you had.
((b))
When I think about you raising your children (or when you get down)... I think about the story of you and Joe meeting your Rabbi for pre-marrige counseling. One of the moments that stick out in the story was how Joe wanted to marry you because you were going to be an amazing mother.
(He was right).
I also think about sitting while we were out to dinner with Jacob and you telling me you thought you might be pregnant again. How Joe told you he was happy to be having a second child because you might not be able to in a year... I think he was wise in many ways.
There was no way in a million years you could've guessed what was about to happen. I understand your regrets. I hope writing helps you to continue to heal.
It still seems surreal - after all this time. I hope you realize how amazing you are, how strong you are. I know Joe is amazed as well (not surprised - but amazed :o).
My memories of Sunday aren't very clear. Like you, I had no idea how serious things were. The only thing I really remember is you wanting to talk to Joe. You wanted to get information and he couldn't share anything with you. I remember him barely being able to speak to you. Not seeing him bothered you, even then. But you did what you had to do to support Joe, and Jacob and Joshua.
Love you,
Mel
One thing I am sure of is that Joe is looking down on you and is bursting with pride, love, admiration, and passion for how you have handled the past three years. And I agree, you are helping so many others in the same place as you. Blessings.
I'm glad you're telling this story. I'm listening intently. And I hope the telling helps.
I remember reading this last year and it has quite an effect on me this year as it did last year.
*hugs**
Oh, b ... big hugs to you. I read this as you wrote it last year, and I'll read it as you post it this year. The heartbreak never goes away, does it.
As you know, your writing this last year inspired me to write a chronology of Nick's brief and devastating illness. I kept it private, inviting only a few to read it. I wonder if I should make it public this year. Hmmmmm...
Big hugs to you, dear. Know you are in my thoughts and prayers this week of horror and pain.
Bless you and all whom you love and who love you. I am so sorry for such an awful outcome, yet so hopeful for you and your boys. No words....again. You have such a powerful story. Thank you for allowing others to read about your agony.
Julie
Reading again this year...
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