Another widow sharing her story. Proof that our stories are different, but they share so many components.
It was time. I walked in, your wife, your best friend, your lover. You had been cleaned up, tubes removed, hair combed, fresh gown. I was able to hold you and kiss you, to say goodbye. To ask your forgiveness for letting you go. To tell you how much I loved you and always would. To tell you about everything good and wonderful we had together, and to talk of all we had done, and what we had meant to each other. I did all the talking; I don’t know if you were aware of my voice or were able to hear what I said, or even know I was there and feel my arms around you and be aware of my presence. Were you present or were you already gone to whatever next plane of existence does, or does not, exist? An hour went by, the longest…
View original post 735 more words