Anytime he's gone away

Some of you might want to chose to skip this post. It is a graphic description of death. There is a reason I feel it has to go here. But you don't need to read it, I just had to write it.

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After 20 years of all the ups and downs of life, here we were. In a snug little house where we wanted for nothing, loved each other, had our pets and toys and family and friends to share it all with and loved them, too. And smart enough to know we had it! It had really never been smooth or easy, but loving each other so much made it seem easier for both of us.

We had wonderful fun holidays with the family and with each other. The mate was wonderful to me for my birthday, no party again, but a very happy private celebration.

Tuesday, the 24th was Bible Study again. I stopped in town and picked up a used answering machine. He put up for me and we got it running before everyone came over. Snacks were all ready and the cake was hidden under a towel.

Mom's bday was going to be Friday and he had bought her a store cake with the icky bakery icing she enjoys and lots of yellow flowers on it, her favorite. I had a few fun gifts for her and a card. The sis brought her some ice cream and a gift, and the cousin joined us along with the sister's mate and a nephew and neice, I think, in wishing her a happy birthday.

The mate made me put the cake back so he could light the candles before he took it out for her and we sang as he brought it. It was fun and traditional and she liked it all very much. We ate cake and ice cream and he stayed with us instead of hiding upstairs or in on the tv while we visited and teased her. Simple fun with family and friends, our speciality.

After they left and I had the coffee on for morning and the mess cleaned up I went in and sat with him on the couch for a MASH rerun. Then we got around for bed. It was about 11ish.

We had both been running around all day getting stuff for the tiny party and the night before had been very satisfyingly romantic. We were tired and he crawled across the king sized bed and laid his head on my shoulder.

I petted him and he huggled me and we necked a little. "I love just laying here with you like this," he mumbled tiredly into my neck. "Me, too," I answered. We engaged in a mutual, tight hug, held it a minute and then he rolled over, called a sleepy "I love you" that I retured. He went to sleep while I read a little before shutting off my little light. (Make a note that this was the last time I ever spoke to my mate or heard his rumbly voice in my ear. no regrets)

I wake up hard. I have a clock with double alarms and battery back up. I set them 11 to 15 minutes apart and at least an hour before I have to get up then play slap down till they finally invade my dreams enough to get me up. As I sat up on the side of the bed Wednesday morning I saw it was a little after eight and I had to get moving to be on time to work.

I could hear the mate filling the dog bucket, going back to the bath room and drawing more water from the tub as I put on the bra and shirt I had laid out the night before. I found my socks and undies and was just getting up to slide them on when I heard him holler, the bathroom door screech and felt him land on the floor though the floor boards beneath my feet.

Still undressed I raced out calling his name and dropped to my knees beside him on the floor. As far as I could tell, and still will swear to, he slipped in some water he slopped filling the dog bowls, he would have had one hand on the door knob when his feet went out from under him and the bucket he was carrying for the humidifier went down with him as he fell backwards into the edge of the door. The bottom hinge had broken out of the wood and there were splinters and screws on the floor. The door hung at an angle.

He was laying there very wrong, with the edge of the door jammed into his neck at the shoulder. There was water every where. His eyes are traveling back and forth and blinking fast, color bad, not breathing but he would haved knocked the wind out of him.

Everything is in high gear now. I'm looking him over for more detail before I decide. His neck might be broken where the door slammed into it but it could be crushing the artery in his neck. I had to start CPR. He wouldn't want to live if his neck was broken......ran through my head and I moved him down away from the door then closed it so I had room to lift his head, now clear the airway, where's his tongue, got it, OW! He BIT me, no, it's just he's spastic....hold the nose, get the air in...two good ones for a grown man, two fingers below the breast bone, Five pumps, use your muscles, grab nose, breathe buddy, two times, he's breathing, sort of and I run for the phone.

The 911 lady made me crazy, I threw her on the washer and went back to doing cpr. Come on buddy, stay with me mate, and I did more reps. But his eyes saw nothing and blinked frantically and he was turning blue on me, I did one more rep and said to myself, girl, this is NOT working.

I raised up on my knees and brought my fist down on his chest screaming at him to breathe now, buddy, I did it again, nothing. Again, crying because I was hurting my mate.

I straddled his chest and leaned into the compressions, I bent over and breathed for him again and as I sat up he made a tiny gagging noise and stopped. I hauled my arm back far as I could spin and swung for the fence and screamed at him again, Breathe!!!!! Then slapped him as hard as I could. His head rocked down and back up. I was panicked because what I knew to do wasn't working so I tried this as a last resort. He hated to have his face slapped. He should have come up to knock me on my butt for it. I started the compressions again with tears running down my arms and over my hands.

And that funny, tiny noise you hear that sounds like a little gate bouncing on a tiny post came from his throat, two repetitions of three. Death rattle. I was sobbing. He was gone. Just like that.

I got up, picked up the phone, told the stupid woman he was dead, where were her people and hung up on her. I heard the sirens then. They were too late.

I called work and left a message that I thought my husband was dead and I wouldn't be in. The boss called my mom, the bro in law was on his way from the sisters house to tell her and got there as she was ready to leave and I still don't remember if I called my sis or my mom did.

Because as I sat here, stunned, with the dead man on the floor and the dead phone in my hand my internal systems were screaming for back up. I was closing down shop and needed to get the back ups in place. Who to call?

The EMT's were here now, I let them do their thing, answered their questions and ended up with,"But you're too late, he's dead.", stared at the phone and dialed a number that went to a phone and hour and a half north of us. His best friend, the guy he always called if the chips were down.

And I told the poor guy at about 8:30 in the morning, that his best friend was probably dead but the EMT's were working on him and after an OMG or two, he said,'Val, are you ok?' and I lost it a little. "I don't think so," I answered, "but I didn't know what else to do. I am so SORRY!" I cried to him, meaning I was sorry I told him so hard and quick and then fell on him with my own needs and that I was sorry the cpr I did wasn't enough and that I was sorry he lost his best friend and that I was sorry for not being able to save my mate and a thousand apologies.

He stayed on the phone with me till they pronounced him. It was probably the hardest minutes of either of our lives. It was about 8:45 I think, when he said he was on his way and I got off the phone. He called our other best friend that lives about 6 miles over and asked him and his wife to come be with me. They were there before the emts left. As were my mom, my sis, the mate's brother and his wife and who knows how many before the body was even out the back door.

I think I freaked them all out when I asked them to move into the kitchen if they were done so I could let the dogs in. One of them looked at me funny. "Look," I explained as if it would be obvious to a two year old, "he has been with that dog ten years. I can't explain dead to him, I have to show him. He deserves that before you take him away." They moved back.

I just let white boxer and black chow/lab sniff him until I saw they got it. The boxer nuzzled his ear and broke my heart. I put them back out and took some time for myself but I truely knew the part I loved was no longer on the floor in that body. It was just so fast. I told him I would take care of everything, he was outta here, lucky bum and that I would always love him. Then I walked out and told them they could take it out.

We have one hell of a support team. And I had to tell the girls their daddy was dead, and my son the truck driver who was on the road and my eldest and his other brother in El fricking Paso and his sister in VA and the one he didn't like in Middle Town and omg his other friends and the cousins who were just here that weekend....

I had managed, after I got off the phone with his best friend, to run off one stupid person and reach the counter to pour one cup of coffee and get a smoke. After that I think I was on the phone or answering questions with officials or explaining the impossible to people all day. My sister cleaned, did dishes, went to the store, came back, made food, fed people and directed those that helped her and my mom answered questions and everyone helped while I was talking on the phone.

His best friend and his wife with their friends from TX ,who were people we knew, got here before noon, an impressive drive time in January. The girls got here in tears and their mom and her husband and there were so many people in our little house. And I just sat there talking between the phone ringing and thinking of one more person to call, cripe, his DAD, and I don't know what all I did. And the first meat and cheese tray arrived.

I got some time upstairs with just the best friend and his friend. I wrote about that somewhere else. I don't remember eating or anything. I don't know who stayed that night or when I went to bed. I only remember the reams of people and to all of them I kept saying, "I'm sorry."

This probably just about takes the prize for TMI. I don't care. I am trying to SHOW YOU in my feeble words with my untrained ramblings that you have to choose to be happy and loved and loving now, not tomorrow, not later this after noon. If you feel like taking a walk in the woods with your lover, grab em and go. If you are unhappy figure our what will help you change that and move toward it. If you love someone TELL them so, now, and often. Be nice to each other all the time. Even if you get angry the thing to ask is, "Is this how I want them to remember me?"

You only have from now until you die to be happy. Or from now until your beloved dies. If I have communicated to you how impossibly quickly you can go from just another day in the salt mines to having your entire live changed then I have helped one more person learn to enjoy what they have NOW. It is worth putting it out here.

The offical verdict is death by natural causes. The doc says he had one artery totally clogged and the other one 70% clogged and that he was dead before he hit the floor. I know if he had not slipped he would still be here. I never heard anyone fall that hard in my life. The floors are tile and slick when wet. And he did start sort of breathing on his own for a bit. But not for long enough. But it's a moot point now.

And he is not paralized from the neck down or stuck in his head and can't communicate or vegetating in the hospital on machines. He got out fast, the doc says painlessly, and left us all good memories of him from the last year of his life. And he didn't trash the bike he loved so much. When I sell it in the spring it will cover getting all the things done on the house that I need to get it in shape for one old lady to take care of by herself and still leave a little for the kids.

We would join hands and thow everything we all owned on the pile and light it if it would bring him back. All we can do is go on and try to live our lives with as much kindness, humor, and love as he added to our lives and to share it with others.

Our boys have to be men who stand up for what they believe in, protect children and little old ladies, treat their women like queens, help them achieve their dreams and put their family first.

Our girls have to be kind and loving and considerate of their men, support them when they want to try something new, help them express their love to the children.

They all have to stop for the family broken down on the side of the road and help their neighbors and friends when they need a hand.

All any of us can do is try to be a little better person because we knew my mate. It is how his life continues to put more goodness and love into the world even though he is gone.

If you knew my mate and he ever did anything good for you, please pass it on and whisper his name as you do.