I am heartbroken. As I sit in the empty hospital room awaiting my husbands return from oral surgery I remember the first time I "met" him. I was his radio dispatcher and he was a voice on the other side. The first time I heard that voice I was intrigued and after months and months of radio transmissions and phone calls we finally did meet. I love that voice. I love the sound of it as I lay my head on his chest. I love the way he whispers to me. I love the laughter, the surprised sounds, even the anger. His voice radiates authority- demands obedience. But it is also soft, loving, caring. Many a night I wrapped myself in that voice, feeling secure and loved by it's sound. I love it all and it is all gone. Never again will I hear him tell me he loves me with "that voice". I took all those days for granted. How many times did I not listen. Oh the times I said "just shut up" in anger." My poor husband. My poor, poor husband.
His nurse comes in to see if I'm ok and, with tears coursing down my face, matching the rain cascading down the windows of his room, I tell her "No-but I will be. I'm grieving the loss of George's voice." With a hug and warm words she hands me a box of tissues and quietly closes the door.
This is the first time I've so totally, completely fallen apart. All I can do is sob- the deep, stomach-hurting sobs that feel like they are being ripped and torn from my soul. I am slowly realizing how truly life-altering this journey is.
I am so unprepared. I know I have to be strong for my husband, for our families but I can't do this, I just cannot do this. I am not strong enough, not smart enough... I cannot do this!!! Yet I know I must.