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3. Dealing with Regrets

Updated: May 4, 2020


It still hurts.

Written Wednesday, August 28, 2019 / Day 16 / Afternoon


One of the things I am grateful for is that I do not seem to have regrets at this time. None of the "if only I had..." or "I wish I had..." moments. In that I feel secure.


Although it may seem odd to some - but after 47 years I am still madly in love with Joann. I told her I loved her all the time - I would try to stop and give her a hug or come up behind her chair and embrace her from behind...any time I could touch her was a treat.


It makes the present just that much harder.


Sure, I saw what was happening and because of that I had mentally been thinking about ..."what if..." - so it was not a strange thought - just a thought I did not want to entertain.


I did everything I could think of for her. I knew she expected it and required me to set aside my desires and ideas for me - so I could fulfill what she needed.


It was difficult for her to get ready. She had her own regimen as we all do - of course ladies do always have a few more steps than us men - but that comes with the territory.


As with any routine - we had one - it was just all based on what she needed and I made sure I was there to provide whatever the need was.


Actually I don't believe I ever regretted any of the demands. Now they were an intrusion into my world, and some could not be planned - but whatever they were - they were just what I did for her. She so did not want to be so needy but she forged on and I propelled her as much as I could.


I am so grateful that I don't look back on any of that time and lament about not being there for her. As I mentioned, that does give me an element of peace. At least when the waves of grief do come - they are not peppered with the elements of regret. I did everything I could for her and when I cry out to God for relief I tell Him that I was always there for her and that He knows that is true.


And what of the end?


Those final weeks in retrospect were weeks of coping. I believe we thought we would just get past whatever was the impediment of the day was.


Ever the optimists, we forged on - although if we were an airplane, we kept flying as the parts of the plane were falling off ever hopeful we would somehow get it back into the air.


But the descent was slow and certain. The forces were in place to take us to where God was taking us.


Not to the shared retirement dreams we had for the future but to God's plan where He would take her and prepare me for some future which as of this date I do not want and cannot even contemplate without her.


It was painful and excruciating for me to witness what I was experiencing with her. Trying to keep her comfortable...trying to do the routine things in the hospital so a nurse would not have to do them.


She could not lift herself out of bed - that was actually always an issue for her - but at home she would roll a certain way that an orthopedic doctor had taught her years before and manage to complete the task.


In early July and continuing on towards the end though, I had to help her. I would put my right arm behind her back and when she was ready, slowly lift her up. All the time she was worried that I would hurt myself. That's just like her.


In the hospital I had to put my right arm behind her and almost embraced her in the bed before pulling her up. I would get into position and there we were facing each other.


I would stare at her and say, "So what do we have here?” and give her a kiss before lifting her up. The final few times she did not want to be kissed which told me she was coping with a lot she did not want to let on.


It only made me more troubled with where this was all going.


Another little part of the plane falling off.


It's odd when you look back at a situation that played itself out and you cannot look back with a lot of insight about what you would have done differently.


The only one I had was that perhaps God would heal her.


But that was not to be be the conclusion I prayed for.


Instead I pour out my heart, the heart I poured out for her and try to leave a little of it on this paper.


I don't know what the answer is. The cliché is time of course - the prevailing though is that you'll "get on" with your life. Except my life had two parts - mine and hers and without hers I really don't have an interest in just about anything right now.


God will reach down and deal with me I'm sure.


Even though I will continue to wrestle with this for some indeterminate time period - at least I can have the small satisfaction that I served her well, with my whole heart, in every way I could - and never did I regret a moment of that service or the legacy that it now represents to me.

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