"Have no fear for giving inThis weekend, on Sunday, I cried for almost 2 hours straight. I'm not a pretty crier so it was not a pretty sight. The reason is, I went into her room while J was out with his brothers and father. I just wanted to let her know that I love her son and that I love her. I got a few words out. I think I managed "i love you" before I choked on my own sadness and stumbled out of the room, up the stairs and into J's childhood bedroom, where I shut the door and just burst.
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again"
I felt instant relief because it actually physically hurts to keep sadness in. I had not cried since the weekend before, in an effort to remain supportive for J. I wanted to be able to comfort him, not the other way around. And so, alone in his old room, i cried. I tried to do it quietly since his aunts were in the house, but with the loud hum of the fans I felt like they probably wouldn't hear me anyway.
I cried because i had been holding it in for too long. I cried because the once strong, independent and vibrant woman I once knew is fading fast. Because seeing the man I love go through something so painful like this is heartbreaking. Because, late at night when we are in bed and it is dark, and J whispers that he is scared, all I can do is squeeze his hand. Because it is not fair.
I realized that when someone is dying, everyone around it starts to die a little too. You see that change, that shift in those around you- the pull and the pressure as walls start to crack and emotions fill up all available space. I told E that it was like I could see a train coming but just couldn't get out of the way. Like...this horrible movie is playing, but my remote is broken and i can't stop. I can't rewind. I just have to "be" there.
All I want to do is scream. To punch my hand into a wall. I get now why when people are sad/angry they want to do that- the punching wall thing...it is because if something else hurts, maybe you'll forget about the other pain.
I'm back now, in Portland. We are not in the house. I'm not watching her die today, neither is J. You can tell the difference in both of us after a good nights sleep and the escape from the pressure of death. Nobody should have to watch. She wouldn't want that. She wouldn't want J waiting and watching and feeling it sink in around him.
I should make clear that death isn't the only thing present in that house- love is there too. Sad love, but it is there. It sort of whispers around the dying part and tries to hold death's hand. I hope she feels it. I hope she knows she is not alone in this. I hope she is peaceful, even though she is confused. I hope, more than anything, that there is a place for wonderful people after life.