Our Last Conversation
Estimated reading time: 8 minutes, 51 secondsPillow Talk
Although I had only been downstairs for at most ten minutes, I was sure she was asleep when I returned to the bedroom. I placed the water bottle with the crushed ice chips by her bed and proceeded to the bathroom. When I got to the edge of the bed, I stopped and looked at the love of my life. She was home at last, hopefully home for good.
I started this bedtime routine at the beginning of the year. When I crawled into bed, I leaned toward Jan and whispered how much I loved her. Even if she was sleeping, I wanted her to know how much she meant to me.
“I am awake, and I love you too.”
I moved my arm across her chest and held her lightly.
I kissed her tear-soaked lips, “I will live alone but not be lonely.
I want you to be happy,” Jan said as tears swallowed her words. I don’t want you to be alone and unhappy. You are a wonderful, loving husband….”
I kept repeating that she should not be worried about me.
“Promise me, promise me, if I die, you will re-marry!”
“I am seventy-two, not twenty-seven,” I started to say. As I said, I remembered Jan almost left me when I was twenty-seven.
I told Jan that I was sure no woman would want me as a husband.
“There are many women who tell me they love you. You have been a great husband, a wonderful lover, and the light of my life!
I laughed. Your sense of humor is as good as ever! If they say they love me, it is because of my work, not me!”
“I am not joking,” she said. “If you were not married to me, many women would want to marry you? Especially if they knew how you always focused on my needs and not yours, especially when we made love.”
“Who would want to marry me? I am old, overweight, and my body is dysfunctional.”
“That’s not true!” she shouted. She then described her body in terms that made no sense to me. I disagreed with her but soon realized it was hopeless.
As she criticized herself, I could think about how beautiful she looked when I helped her get ready for bed. If she wasn’t sick and I wasn’t dysfunctional.
I reached over and kissed her tear-soaked lips in the middle of one of her sentences.
“Nice try,” she laughed. “But you have to promise me you will re-marry!”
I never wanted to lie to her, but I could not make that promise. But then I thought about her mother asking her if we would live in her house.
“I promise…” I said as I kissed her again. I did not finish the sentence, and in my mind, I whispered I would get a dog but then remembered our lease prohibited it.
“Thank you! I want you to be happy,” she said as the tears flowed like an open fire hose.
I am happy! I am happily married to you!”
“I am glad you are happily married to me.
“My love, I only want to sleep with you,” I said, exasperated.
I tried to change the conversation to talk about the next steps in her treatment. Jan reminded me that I needed to get support and help.
“Yes, I will. At the hospital, they had a flyer from CancerCare. I will reach out to them about caregiver support next week. Plus. I also have the boys, friends, and others who will help me.”
Her breathing slowed, and soon she was asleep. I kept my arm around all night. When I met Jan, I had to accept the end of another relationship. To embrace the future this time, I will need to find a way to bring Jan with me.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
