On that horrible Sunday morning, you agreed to go to the emergency room, so I knew we were in trouble. Once you were situated in the car, I closed the kitchen door to set the alarm on our home. As I closed the door, the reality of the situation hit me like a wave of fear, and I fell to my knees. I clutched the door frame and prayed to God while sobbing in terror. My repetitive prayer was, “God, please let me bring him home. Please allow him to come through these doors again”.
One year ago, today, they went to the funeral home. Pick up flowers. Arrange for an invoice. Check on follow up details from your funeral. I chose not to go. I could not face going into that building knowing that this was the last place that I saw you. They knew that and offered to go for me. After you left, they took on the job of being my protectors because they promised you that.
I did not expect it. When they returned, they had you. They walked into my office with the beautiful pewter and black urn that I know you would have chosen for yourself. Their faces said it all. They were not expecting you on that day either and the last thing they wanted to do was to hand you over to me. I remember gasping as they walked in, wanting and not wanting you at the very same moment. Please do not make it that real!
My memory reeled back to the last moment I saw you. The minister. The funeral director. The flag. All of the people. The 21 guns. It should have been just you and me. That moment. Just us and the rest of the fanfare was insignificant. It was so intimate when they closed the lid that everyone else there was an intruder into our marriage. I remember my body shaking uncontrollably and screaming in my head No No No. Please God, NO. I wanted to kiss you just one more time. I see that moment every day of my life.
And now here you were in your now permanent home. I felt my feet slipping from under me as they placed you respectfully on my desk. It’s over. Full circle. Eternal reward. Alone. Without you.
I picked you up and put you I the car and tearfully drove to our home. This was our private moment. Just for us. As I entered our home, I flashed back to the day this final journey began. I remember falling to my knees next to the door and praying to bring you home and the reality struck me that God had answered my prayers. I prayed for the wrong thing. What I meant, God, was please let me bring him home alive. Let me take it back. Let me ask again for what I really want.
I am so sorry, my love. I prayed for this.