Well it's another sleepless night, but I'm not in Seattle. I am stuck in this nightmare that everyone else calls reality. In the early days and even weeks, I didn't have too many problems sleeping. It seems these days it eludes me on a nightly basis. I toss and turn for hours. My body is physically exhausted, yet I cannot seem to fall asleep. My mind reels with all the 'what ifs' and 'whys'. I can't get it to shut off. So Instead, I stay up, keeping myself occupied, until my eyes will hardly stay open.
Lately, I have been really caught up in thinking about the night before Pat passed away. He had been in and out of it so much in the days leading up to his death. He was on high amounts of narcotics, for the immense amount of pain he was in. They somewhat sedated him. I was not getting much sleep. I was so afraid that he would pass away while I was sleeping, so I stretched myself pretty thin. The night before he passed away, I stayed up until about four or four thirty in the morning. I cuddled with him for a good forty five minutes that night. I am so grateful for that. There is one thing that I can't seem to shake from my thoughts. After I laid down, and just started to doze off, he awoke, almost in a panic, looking for his urinal. I got up, somewhat irritated, and found it for him. I was half asleep, and frustrated that I had to get up, because I was exhausted. That was the last time I saw him coherent. By the time the doctor came in at seven, he was no longer responsive. So here I sit. Constantly kicking myself, because had I known, I would have gotten back in bed with him. I would have held his hand, and told him I loved him just one more time. I would have kissed his forehead. I would have tried to talk to him. I would have looked into his eyes, that smiled, even when his mouth didn't. Instead, I laid back down on the couch, and went to sleep. When I awoke a few short hours later, I thought I was stuck in a nightmare. It just couldn't be real.
It still doesn't seem real. It's been almost two months, yet I still feel like he could walk through the door at any moment. Every time I really start to think about things, it hits me like a brick wall all over again. I have an image ingrained in my mind, of the last breath he took, and it all becomes so real again. I picture him in the coffin, and while he looks so peaceful, it also makes me realize how final it is. I look at the few pictures I have with me, and I realize that's all I have left. Memories, and pictures. My best friend is no longer standing by my side.
