And so today’s moment of happiness despite the news.
It’s finally here. The very last day of this very awful year.
We had 16 days of a normal year. January 1 – 16. January 17th started out normal. All the way to 6:04 p.m. That is the moment that Michael was struck, then run over, by a passenger van.
One of my coaching clients wrote in his memoir, “I felt the dismantling of my world.” I wrote that quote down in my own little notebook that sits by the side of my computer, because it so accurately described what happened at 6:04 p.m. on January 17th, 2024.
This blog has been a lifesaver for me, for the entire year, not just the month of December, when I returned it to its original once-a-day postings. It forced me to notice the good around me, even when the days seemed impossible to get through.
Michael’s accident was on a Wednesday, and Thursday is when I post This Week’s Moment Of Happiness Despite The News. I just looked through my blogs where I save them in my computer by date, and apparently, I didn’t write one on 1/18/24. I don’t remember not writing one. But one week and one day after the accident, on 1/25/24, I wrote this as my Moment:
“Without a doubt, it was when he said my name. As much as I felt the connection when he opened his eyes and then his arms, and when he said, “Hi, hon,” it was immediately followed by doubt. Did he recognize me? Was I the person he saw?
But when he said, “Kathie.” And his voice came out as his voice, not the strangled and pained voice I’ve been hearing, and not the silence I heard before that.
He saw me. He recognized me. He knows I’m here, and at some level, I hope he knows I’m doing everything I can to care for him, and make sure those around him are caring for him.
My name never meant so much.”
And that began a year of awful, but also a year of looking for the good. Noticing it, seeing it, hearing it, writing it down so that I would always remember it. Things like:
*the day he was moved from the ICU to a “step-down room”.
*the second time he was moved from the ICU to a “step-down room”.
*the day he left the hospital and was moved to rehab,
*watching him take his first steps since the accident, when all the PT expected him to do that day was stand. He walked to me.
*seeing him eat his first meal, even if it was mush.
*driving him home from the rehab. Seeing him sit in his recliner. Watching him hug the dog.
*seeing the feeding tube get pulled out. It had to be left in long after its usefulness until the wound healed enough that it would close after removal.
*seeing the catheter get pulled out. (Seeing things pulled out of your husband was something I never expected to be joyful.)
*the day he climbed the stairs to the third floor, not once, but twice, and sat outside on the deck. We both felt he’d not just turned a corner, but he left the corner behind.
And then, well, everything fell apart. So quickly.
But those Moments were there. They are in my head, and I can see them as clearly as if they happened today.
And mostly, I remember the second full day in hospice. Father’s Day. He was suddenly fully cognizant, and he opened his arms for a hug. I bent over the bed and he pulled me down to his chest. We set the bed alarm off. I began to laugh, and I said, “Michael, Michael, you have to let me go! We’re setting off the alarm!”
And he said, “Kathie, I will never let you go.”
He died 2 days later.
So my Moment of Happiness today hasn’t happened yet, but I know it’s coming, and so I’m writing about it now. At midnight tonight, it will be a new year. 2024 will be no more. I cannot wait for this year to be over. I cannot wait for the new year to begin.
But I will spend the hours between now and then remembering the good Moments. Not the bad.
And just a note: today is the last day of December. I said I would return this blog to its original format of Today’s Moment for the month of December. Tomorrow, January 1st, Today’s Moment will fall silent. But on Thursday, January 2nd, I will post in the returned This Week’s Moment Of Happiness Despite The News.
We’ll start fresh. Happy New Year, everyone. I cannot even begin to express my gratitude for all the help and support and encouragement I’ve been shown this year.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
