I did this while Wash played with the Hospice Volunteer who came over today- as requested, "The geekiest one you can find!" said Wash. Well, when Will's* eyes lit up as he saw our TARDIS cookie jar and recognized Leto's name "As in Atredes?"
So, he spent about two hours over learning some more Warhammer and Wash taught him Munchkin (Steve Jackson game) so we three can play next Sunday. I think it will be fun even if it is not "me" time, it's time we can spend doing something fun, as it plays much better with more people than 2.
I spend a lot of my time thinking now. Going over thoughts and sometimes running as fast as I can away from them. How lucky to have had all this time, but how angry I can still feel that I won't get my "lifetime" with my husband, how we won't have all the things we want so badly, the smallest and simplest things. It hurts to spend so much of my time worrying about money, worrying about how I'm going to pay these bills, how long I can push others off, how badly my own credit score can really get...?
I ache for the children we will never have. I hurt that Wash will not get to see even his nephew grow up.
I hurt watching him cry and try to move past his dream of being a licensed Architect. How he stares at buildings sometimes, not able to speak a word but the pain is brilliant in his eyes.
I ache with the remembrance of pains he has long since forgotten, but not forgiven. How does one forgive when they do not remember they have been crossed?
He was looking for a specific Warhammer codex today for Will, before he remembered he had loaned it to a friend who literally just left him (and us) when he got sick. Who did some real shitty things to a friend who just had brain surgery and found out he was dying. All those memories, things he had forgotten for two years came back.
Thankfully for Will, he was able to keep Wash distracted enough to move past it or maybe with his short term issues, he just forgot again. I can hope.
I want moments of happiness. I want a chance to savor and remember what I know will be too short, too sad. I want something special, something more than just seeing the decline. I'm thankful every hour I get to spend with him, that he is alive, but I want more than just mere .... "well, he's alive...". I want to be thankful he is living and enjoying the life he has. I want more time for that, I want more chances for that.
Ah, crying now. That's my cue for the moment to stop writing. I am trying my hardest to keep the stress and drama away from Wash, and as I'm writing this in the afternoon not 2am when he's asleep, I have to be careful how he sees me. Sometimes he cannot understand the reasons why I am in pain and he just wants to do something to make me feel better. I try and keep him from having to feel like he has to take care of me. He should be focusing on himself.
We dated for 3 months before we got engaged. We were engaged for about 9 months before we eloped in secret. I had from the end of March through about May before his personality had changed so much he was hardly recognizable as the same personality. Realistically, I had one year to "know" my husband, my best friend, and the person I swore my life to.
I had about 6 weeks of being a "newlywed".... except since our family did not know we had eloped, most of our friends did not either. So, it was a secret and silent marriage.
By the time everyone knew we were married, all anyone could focus on- and should have- was Wash and the cancer, and the word "terminal".
I wanted to elope. We wanted to elope. We wanted something small, something that was all ours, that we "owned". I remember every lovely moment of it; even the scary parts and the first laughs we had as "Mr & Mrs."
But, we wanted (before the Cancer) something large for our families and friends to share and celebrate too. We just never got there. It was supposed to happen for a "anniversary".
I ponder these thoughts as March 14th approaches; our 3rd wedding anniversary.
My defining years as a wife have also been as a caregiver. I have never known another way.
I am sad about that though. I wish the 4 years I have been given to spend my time with him would have been less of "nursing" and more of "being his partner". I wonder if in a different universe 20 years from now "Pratt-King" would have meant the same powerhouse as "Charles and Ray Eames"? I can still hope for that future there, I suppose.
I just truly wish we as a couple, as a husband and wife, had something great to look forward to, something to celebrate.
*Not his real name