The Fight (Republished)

Chapter 18: Moving Forward

I guess I don't have to go into great detail in this chapter of my wife's story. She passed away. I was the last person she saw and spoke to. Sometimes I wonder why she didn't wait for Lars and her mom, but I guess there's no going back now. Maybe she knew it was going to happen quick and couldn't wait.

Regardless of how things ended, they did. Her sunken face was burned into my mind for quite some time after her initial death. If it wasn't for her mom, they probably would have locked me up for the reaction I had to her death. As I mentioned, I started to convulse. My lungs were being squeezed because my throat had constricted so much, which caused my whole body to shake, trying to shake loose what was blocking my airway. There was nothing blocking it though. It was just how my body reacted to the loss of my wife. I had no control over what happened in that moment. My mother-in-law held me tight and eventually my body calmed down so that I could breathe normally. I doubt I would have suffocated, but I owe that woman - a lot.

Ever since I started dating her daughter, she has always been fond of me. I don't know how, or why, but she has. She didn't let go of me for the longest time as we sat on the floor, all crumpled up into a human ball of agony. Coming back from that wasn't going to be easy, but she helped me the entire way. She moved in with me since I had to go to therapy for the trauma I had suffered. Lars would stay home with her and I would go to my sessions to talk and be evaluated for depression. I suppose it was a safety precaution in case I did become severely depressed and decided to orphan my son. It would never happen, but I understood why everyone worried for me.

My parents weren't around much during her final days, but I didn't blame them. They had been through enough loss with family members of their own, so I didn't pressure them into going to see my wife in the same condition. I needed to be there at all times and her mother was there for quite a bit. Her other family members came when they could get out of their own obligations, but they usually visited briefly, or when I wanted to take a break. I know I didn't mention them much, but you'll have to forgive me. Trying to remember all of that was rather difficult. With my emotions running so high, I'm surprised I managed to get to this point without really messing up some details. If I'm forgetting anything, I'll have to make revisions, that's all.

The funeral was postponed for a while because of my condition. Everyone was worried about me, so her body was treated to wait until I had attended a few sessions of therapy. The doctor at the hospital that checked me over after I calmed down, said I was lucky to have not caused myself a heart attack after what was deemed as a respiratory failure of sorts. To be honest, everything shortly after her passing is hazy. I remember bits and pieces when I go to therapy, but the therapist usually doesn't pry too much at once. My assessments have been good and they don't think I'm at risk of a meltdown episode again, which is very reassuring when I go home to Lars.

He was the only thing holding me together at times. Whether it was music, cars, sports, writing, or even food, nothing brightened my day more than his laughs and smiles. He ismy reason for living. I always wondered what I'd do without my wife, but now I wonder what Lars would do without me. It would definitely be selfish of me to leave him here on his own because I thought I'd be better off elsewhere. Pain is temporary, I just have to remember that.

Considering how much pain I was in immediately after my wife's death, I didn't cry much at her funeral. I was holding Lars the entire time and only mustered a few tears that were easily wiped away with a tissue I had in my pocket. My mother-in-law and I drove to the reception that was being held at my parent's place. Since they were so distant near the end of my wife's battle, they felt they at least owed me a place to go to that was neutral ground for the reception. They lived out in the country, so it was nice to be out in the fresh air away from the city. Lars seemed to enjoy himself a lot. All the running around on the lawn caused him to pass out before we even decided to leave.

Everyone kept telling me how precious he was. I'm a lucky man. I may not have my wife, but I have my son, who takes after her. Any time that I find myself missing her, I just look into his big brown eyes and a calm runs throughout my body. If I had a little girl I could imagine my wife with ease, but it's no big deal. I'm just glad that the last images I have of her in the hospital are gone from my head. They haunted me for days, forcing me to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and heart racing. It was scary at times, but the therapy sessions really helped. Accepting that she was gone wasn't easy, but I think I'm nearly there.

I miss my wife a lot, but I think this space between us is just temporary. Since I believe in God, I trust that one day I will see her again. I know it won't be any time soon since I plan on raising Lars into a nice, young man like I was. There is no way I'm leaving my boy until I'm old and gray and he's married with grandchildren. My wife might be gone, but I feel her sometimes, as if she's always with me - like she never left. It's like her love for me lives inside my heart. Might sound crazy to some, but it calms me, assures me that I'll be all right.

They say, "The hardest part of holding on, is letting go."

I never quite understood what that meant when I first heard it. Letting go is giving up if you ask me, but now I know that we must all let go at some point. Whether we like it or not, we won't always have the ability to hold the ones we love. I'm coming to terms with that now. Just as we all said goodbye to my wife on the day of her funeral, I say goodbye to you. Deep down in my heart I know it's not permanent and I'll see her again one day. Until that happens though, "Goodbye for now."