I sit at my computer screen, 42 hours later, thinking. Thinking about a gift I was given by my dearest Marsi. It is not a tangable gift, not one to hold and cherish or to look at or share, but one made of pure love by someone with nothing else to give.
Marsi had grown sad these past few months, being unable to help around the house or care for me and the children. She was scarred of death and how quickly it was approaching. How everything was being placed on my shoulders to carry the family through. She would thank me often, for being "The best husband" or "Superdad". I can still her her voice telling me just how much she loves me and how she knows the kids will be OK when the time comes for her to go to heaven. I blew off these moments, thanking her with a smile or a kiss, thinking only of me and how hard things are and what needed to get done. Forcing myself to become mechanical and less emotinal, because crying or screaming would not be efficient. What I missed in this was Marsi slowly releasing herself and entrusting me with the care of her children. That I was a good dad, husband, father, and that her little ones would be fine in my care. I wish I had talked to her more about this. Thanked her. Told her that I will die for them no matter what. Taking for granted she knew this since I was their father. Not thinking of a dying mothers worry for the care of her children. But I will tell her now. Our children will grow. They will laugh and not want. They will become fathers and mothers themselves. I will make this happen for you my dearest. And I will be OK. I promise.
It is 4 AM Friday, July 13th. Marsi is now in a drug induced coma. The pain so great she could not bear reality. I went to write in Marsi's blog, because I was angry. Angry because all I could do was mask her pain as she awaited death. And I felt this was wrong. This seemed unfair. So I wrote the blog TIME, thinking about how fast her disease had progressed to bring us to this point where I would rather her go to Heaven, then remain with me on Earth.
At 6:50 AM, I finished the blog and headed down to our bedroom where Marsi awaited me for another round of pain medication. I climbed into bed next to her, to lay with her and look upon her face. To steal another moment and enbrace another memory. But Marsi was gone. She had died in her sleep. Taken to heaven while I write in her blog. I think Marsi whispered the ending to me, knowing it was time for me to let go and her pain to stop. And now it had. She is with God.
For the living, it is 7:40 AM and we are in agreement that death was a blessing, but that does not make it any easier. Tears, grief and sorrow followed that morning. Hospice came and walked us through the moments until her body was gone and the healing could begin. No service date has been set, instead we decide to wait and thank the lord that Marsi went quickly and her suffering was at an end.
It is now 10:10 AM and I have just realized Marsi's gift. A gift to her family, but more so for me. A gift of release, to have her free of cancer and in no need of any care. I think she heard me crying and questioning god why she must suffer. I feel she let go when I layed next to her, so she could free me and allow me to move on. Her body had failed her and it was her gift to save mine. She did not want me to worry anymore, to put myself last as I cared for our family. She knew how it hurt me to see her in pain and how I would do anything to help her through it. So she gave me her last gift, to free me from my commitment of care and left this Earth, before her suffering would become unbearable.
With god in heaven she roams now, in a new body and free of pain. Cancer has been cast out and she is at peace. I know she is watching over us, making sure we are OK. Madison, my eight year old, asked me last night if there are good ghosts and if mommy was now one of them. I replied 'yes' and that from heaven she will always be watching over us, protecting us from anything bad that may come. Madison smiled and walked into our bedroom where Marsi passed and asked if Harrison and her could sleep with me tonight. She said she wanted mommy to know we missed her, but that we would be OK. That if all three of us were together, no bad ghosts could get us, because mommy would protect us from her place in heaven.