And here we are

Tomorrow it will be two months since Theresa past away. It feels like yesterday. The only difference between now and the day she died, is I can hold it together long enough to not cry in public or at work. I am slowly chipping away at the piles of old papers and notes. I'll discard all the old bills and crap, but I'm going to keep the notes. It's sad, all the people that I've had physically close to me died in the past 5 years.

They are now all memories of people who existed. Now contained within myself and a few others who knew her and are alive. I never hear from them. This is what was very painful for Theresa: Reaching out to extended family and then never hearing back. The precious few people that were close to Theresa were long dead now. It was just Paul and I. 

I am not ashamed to admit that I cried because I felt guilty about agreeing with the ICU doctor that yes, we should start decreasing oxygen support and increasing comfort medications.  Emotionally it made sense but logically it was a utter nonsense. Guilty for what? She would have not wanted to live like that.

Should her last moments be pain ? No - never. Rationalizing grief and guilt is impossible. Just when you think you have a handle on the grief, a moment of guilt will hit you. A memory pops up, when you took her to a burger shop on 17th avenue in 1999. Good times.A tiny happy precious memory surrounded by an endless lake.

In the above photo, was taken just before we got the new furniture this past March. She was so happy we got the new living room set. I didn't care about the price (about $6500). I wanted her to be happy, and she picked what she wanted. The candy is what I bought for her in February, $100 worth from Quebec. She loved it.