On this day nine (9) years ago, my husband Michael was bedridden and in terrible pain. I was in denial that he was dying. I never lost hope that one day his will would win over his body and the cancer in him would disappear. Three days later on May 26, 2006, Michael drew his last breath.
Last night at a dinner with friends in a hotel in Hilo I met Mark.
Mark returned to the Big Island partly to fulfill a dream he and his wife had to visit the Big Island again. Mark and his wife planned the trip together six months ago. A month before they were supposed to fly out, Mark's wife died unexpectedly.
Throughout the evening, Mark talked about his wife several times. He remembered how good a cook she was. He recounted wirh obvious pride a story about how his wife thwarted a would-be home invasion by having great presence of mind. He laughed as he recalled her quirks and idiosyncrasies.
When Mark excused himself from the table to wash his hands, I told the rest of the dinner guests that I very well knew what Mark was going through.
His wife died but he was still with her, every moment of the day.
He thinks of when she was last with him driving in his car to a particular destination.
He yearns for her voice, smell, touch -- her very essence.
He wonders why there are cars on the road and people still go about their everyday business. He questions why the world hasn't stopped.
He was mourning for his wife in the exact same way I did for Michael.
My heart went out to Mark as I remembered Michael and how I struggled accepting his death nine years ago.
It is said that nothing ever happens by chance.
I would like to think that meeting Mark three days before Michael's death anniversary was the Universe's way of telling me something.
As my friends and I said goodbye last night, Mark gave my hand a tight squeeze.
Posted with Aloha
- By ARIEL MURPHY