He's Gone

For some reason, this post has been the toughest day to write about so far. I think because it has been very hard for me to believe that he's gone. Some nights, I dream he comes back to life and I tell him about everything that's happened and what he's missed. But here's the reality....

On May 1st, KP had been breathing on his own for two days. He had been moved out of ICU. I started to think I was getting my (his) miracle. But, to their credit, the hospital had always been very honest with me. When I got there that morning, his breathing was very labored. I was confused and wanted him to have more medication and they explained that we were at the point that they would only keep him comfortable. BUT....he looked uncomfortable. His dad, my mom and I waited for them to adjust his medication and then we talked about next steps. They said that he could live days, weeks, even months - but he wouldn't survive. The goal now was to make sure that he didn't pass in pain. It was time to talk about hospice. The one facility they mentioned, I was actually familiar with. The man I considered my grandfather transitioned there a few years ago. It was a nice place. The nurse was going to check to see if they had availability. They thought hospice was better equipped to deal with my husband's condition than the hospital. I prayed they had space for him, but I was concerned they wouldn't. It was a small facility and I didn't remember that many rooms.

I was going to run home for a quick work call (I only lived 10 minutes from the hospital) and then come back to find out if he could be moved to hospice, but oddly enough the chaplain came in to talk to me before I left. She told me that sometimes a loved one will pass away when their "person" isn't there, to save them from heartache. I was thinking she was telling me this for the future, because he may be moving to hospice that day. Nope.

I got home, took my work call and was closing my computer when his mother called to say that he had just passed. Silent Scream.

I got back to the hospital and he was gone. He looked peaceful, but he was gone. I kissed him and put my head on his chest. No breathing. He was gone. What now? Silent Scream.

His mom, his dad, my mom and friends came to say goodbye. He died at 3 pm. We didn't leave his body until around 11 pm - and that's because the nurse came and told us she needed us to leave, they needed his body. I knew that. His color was changing and when I went to kiss him, he was ICE COLD. Silent Scream.

That's it. He's gone. I'm scared. What now? Silent scream.