Al

He knew.  I should have listened.  

What would I have done different?  I would have stayed at the hospital longer.  I would have showed up the first day.  I wouldn’t have let him go to surgery.  I would have been there with him.

The first time he coded …… I gasp as I write that word.  How I hate that I know this vocabulary., this lingo.

The first time he coded, he came back.  Maybe he wanted me there, maybe he wanted to see me again.  One last time.  

Maybe all the people in the room knew that he wouldn’t make it.  They brought me to him and they let me stay.  There was chaos around us, people doing their jobs, working together to make a different ending.  I held his hand.  I got him water swabs for his month.  I helped him calm down.  I told him I love him.  More than once.

The second time he coded, he didn’t come back.  He was on an operating table with a bunch of strangers.  They tried to revive him.  They couldn’t.  

And now I am sitting in a house where he doesn’t live anymore.  There are people here with me, people who love me and care for me and who I love like crazy.  I am so grateful they are here.   But they are the wrong people. I don’t want them here,  I want Al here.  

And yet, I get it.  He was so tired of all the setbacks.  He did it for so long, he never stopped.  He just got tired.  The strongest man I know got tired.

And now I have to be here without him.  

40 years.  And it was not long enough.