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Sometimes I think I share too much of my grief.....

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I picked a beautiful wooden urn for Billy.  On the top is engraved the tree of life.  Underneath are these words engraved:  A limb has fallen from our family tree that says grieve not for me. Remember the best times, the laughter and the song, and most of all the good life I lived while I was strong.

I never thought about Billy minding all the things I did for him.  Only a man could imagine this.  I did not mind bathing him, I did not mind his having to hold onto me to walk.  I had him grab my shoulders.  Any back problems or pain I had ever had, it totally went away while I was helping him.  I was very strong.  Taking care of his most private things he had always done, I never minded at all and he never could possibly have thought that I might mind.  I loved him so much taking care of him was more important than taking care of myself.  But, Billy was a man's man.  Just like my dad ran his own brother-in-law off that had come to help while my dad was dying, Billy thought he was less of a man I guess having to have everything done for him.  I got frustrated because I could not make him eat, but he really could not eat or drink and had to keep having saline boluses.  I can only take comfort in the fact his suffering was short lived and somehow, I wanted to keep him forever.  My friend took care of her husband for seven years after a devastating stroke.  Feeding tubes, everything.  She said she would have done it for seven more years to keep him with her.  I know I am very selfish.  I keep thinking that acceptance is one of the stages of grief.  I don't shake myself as often now realizing he is gone, but I am not sure acceptance is there yet.  

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I know, Margaret.  I would have done anything for George, just the same as he would have for me.  Alas, I didn't get that chance, he died.  He, too, would have had a hard time being disabled or dependent.  We had a talk about that his last day.  I think he knew I wanted him with me no matter what.

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