My life, my love, my beloved husband Bob, passed beyond this earthly boundary on January 2, 2015. Almost three months have gone by and the grief is more than words can say.
I have tried, with poems, to express my loss.
I have read previous posts here and it seems a decade passed since he received his final diagnosis of Pulmonary Fibrosis, unknown cause. Ten years of suffering and decline. He went from a normal "fighting" weight to just skin and bones.
First he railed against Type 2 Diabetes. Then the IPF (idiopathic means "unknown reason"). Then in the last few years, liver cirrhosis, also unknown cause. Bob was never much of a drinker! If he had 6 beer over the course of 365 days, that was a banner year. Chronic anaemia meant blood transfusions every month or sometimes even every two weeks.
He was so loving and so brave in the last couple of years. His health had declined to the point where he was only able to walk on flat surfaces--no stairs--and only about half a dozen steps before resting. He was breathless, struggling for air even on constant oxygen. His life comprised sitting in his computer chair and participating in the Pelican Porsche forums; playing World of Warcraft; playing World of Tanks; online Poker at various sites; the Lottery and keeping up with world affairs, especially American political issues. Crime type TV shows. Netflix movies. Recent movies were also seen on his big computer screen. What a monitor! Still awesome after nearly 4 or 5 years. He slept a lot.
His bedroom had to be moved to the main floor since he could no longer do stairs. He was so patient, so amicable, and so stoic. He made the best of every bad situation. Of course he was angry at his health from time to time and near the end he imagined a life where he could ride his Harley chopper just one more time. He said he wished he had known ahead of time, so that he could have taken that "one more ride" to savour it.
He had ended up selling his beloved Porsche 69 911S. That was hard for him but he knew it went to a person who would finish restoring it so that was some little consolation. The chopper is still in the garage. If I ever figure out where its registration is, I could sell it, as well. There are motorcycle parts to sell. I wish he had done that in previous years!
A day never passed that he didn't tell me how much he loved me. We developed little scenarios around it. Cute little scenarios that made sense only to us. One of them was when he would say, "Love you, dear" and I would reply, "How much?" and he would show me with his arms spread so wide. He even invented a little diagram to explain that. So cute. "Love you, Bobby. Love you sooooooooooooooooo much!"
