My husband passed away on Sunday the 9th. His tumor location in the brainstem, affected his ability to swallow and he contracted aspiration pneumonia. Over the course of a month, he would improve because of the antibiotics, and then aspirate again and relapse. It was so horrible to watch him trying to ignore the illness and keep trying to get up and get stronger. He was in the hospital when they told us that there was no hope.
We brought him home where he wanted to be, and he waited for our oldest son to get home from college five hours away. There were a lot of people around that morning - visiting nurses and people stopping by. Finally, everyone left except for our two sons and me. We were sitting around his bed telling him we would be okay and that we would always take care of each other. I told him he was the best friend I would ever have. Then we started talking about family stories and the best skiing day ever. One of our sons said, "I don't think he's breathing." It was just like that, peaceful and surrounded by love.
I am still in a daze. I had fifteen months warning, but I still wasn't ready. I'm so afraid of the waves of grief that keep washing over me. I'm afraid if I start crying I won't be able to stop. It's hard to imagine the rest of my life without him. I suppose that's why we should take it one day at a time. Sigh. I hate this effing disease!!