We all know the dreaded dates. The anniversary of their death, birthdays, togetherness anniversaries, holidays but there’s one more on my list that adds another dark mark on my year - His diagnosis date.
Tin just felt off like he had the flu or something. No strange symptoms. No sudden pains. Just an off feeling. He did complain that he felt bloated but he just thought it might be a stomach bug and just like that, the next day, he had barely any energy and yellowing skin.
That sight is forever trapped in my memories, haunting my recollections of the past. To come home from a regular good work day excited to see him only to find him gravely ill. Unfortunately now I can say I have seen “gravely”.
Down three flights of stairs and put him into the car. The hospital was packed, blood was taken and tests were run. My 20 years in animal care gave me a sinking feeling. I had an idea of what was to come.
“Acute terminal liver failure “ was all I heard and than the sounds of the room muffled. He was given 8 months to live but he only held on for seven. That was 2 years ago this week and it’s more clear and more present than a conversation I had yesterday.
“Bryan, don’t you remember what we talked about yesterday?”
“No. I’m sorry. My widowed wisdom hasn’t left me any room for new memories...”