Control

Death is still inconceivable to me. I think that’s why I have had such a hard time in the past two weeks. In the beginning, when Chris first died, I was in shock and the numbness kept me from feeling much of anything. Now that it has been almost three months, the feelings are seeping in. I’m beginning to realize that I’m alone…well, not completely alone, I still have my friends and family…but alone, in the sense that Chris is no longer going to be by my side hearing all of my stories, how my day went, what I’m doing, what I’m laughing at, crying about, etc…

I can’t believe that it has been three months. When I was on the phone with Janine last night I said to her, “About a month and a half after Chris died…” I felt shock at hearing myself say that. “A month and a half after Chris died.” It’s becoming the past. I guess it became the past the moment after his last breath. I’m short of breath just writing that. How can it be three months since I have seen the love of my life? It’s inconceivable, yet, it’s happening. It will be happening for the rest of my time here on Earth. I can’t stop it. I can’t control it. I lost control of my life the moment cancer stepped into Chris’ life; our lives. Cancer took Chris’ life and altered mine forever.

I wasn’t able to journal about any of it up until now. Not really, anyway. I mean, when I was still in shock, I did a little writing, but for the past month or so, I couldn’t really think coherently about any of it. The book I am currently reading is helping tremendously. It’s called “Getting to the Other Side of Grief” and it was written by a male and a female, both of whom lost their spouses at young ages. Each chapter is broken down and looked at from a psychiatrist’s point of view and then from a Christian point of view. I thought that would bother me but I’m finding the Christian point of view to be very comforting and eye-opening.

I was very, very, very angry with God for hurting Chris and then for taking his life. I still am deep down inside. I’m trying not to be, but it’s so deep seated that it’s tough to turn it around. The book is helping me with that. It’s telling me that God loves me and will help me through this tough time as long as I work hard to get myself through it as much as I can. I always believed that, but when I prayed and prayed for God to save Chris and heal his cancer, he did not answer my prayers. I nearly killed myself in the hospital chapel the night before the hospital staff told us that they were not going to treat Chris anymore; that they were sending him home for comfort care, or to die. I prayed and screamed and thrashed and nearly went out of my mind with panic, fear and desperation. God didn’t listen. He didn’t care. He took my Chris from me and I will never understand why. I’m left to wonder if this will always be a gaping wound in my soul; this inability to control the circumstances surrounding Chris and me. I wanted to, so badly.

And now, whenever Carol refers to that week as “The Week Chris was Dying” I feel a sharp pain in my soul comprised of panic, dread and the need to control the situation, to make it not so; to stop it from happening and to put my hand up in God’s face and tell him to stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. STOP. STOP. Please please please don’t do this. Don’t take my baby away from me. Don’t. I need him. I can’t do it without him. Please please please please please save him. But God didn’t. Or did he? I don’t even know what it means to be saved. God did save Chris, just not the way I wanted him to. He did save him from the pain. That’s not what I asked him to do, though. I asked him to heal Chris’ cancer so he and I could live a long, happy marriage together. Instead, God saved him from the pain of Earth and from the pain of having disease. Maybe God always knew I’d be okay on my own. Maybe that ‘s why Chris and I met in the first place; so I could help him through this dark time in his life and ultimately through his death. Maybe God always knew.