Those of us who are left.

 We are the survivors. We went through the trauma of watching a loved one die. Some of us have done this twice. Maybe a son died then a husband.  Maybe  a wife then a daughter. There are many permutations. But we have one thing in common. We had a relationship, maybe not necessarily happy, but a relationship nonetheless, then we watched it disintegrate. Gave up our jobs, interests, and sometimes friends, because we didn't have time anymore, or maybe we couldn't leave the house to visit.

Caregiving became our world. Often we had no idea what to do or what the future held. We learnt as we went. Sometimes learning to do things others would think unimaginable. We had no time for ourselves. No holidays. Sure they offered to send the sick one to a care facility for a week or two to give us respite. But we knew the loved one didn't want that. They didn't want to be in hospital either. They wanted familiarity. They wanted home. The mere fact that we did what we did meant that we were love. We were the embodiment of love. We were what it meant to love.

Eventually the end came. Mostly it was unexpected. Sooner than we expected. Sometimes it was inevitable, obvious. Maybe those were the hardest. We had to make a decision to stop the care, to approve more morphine than the body could cope with. To end the pain.

We have many regrets. We weren't perfect. Sometimes we went home for desperately needed sleep when the end came. Sometimes we weren't at the bedside for a crucial turn in events. A medical mistake. An unforseen intervention that was life changing. Only we can look each other in the eye and say 'yes that happened to me too, I wish....".

Of course we are scarred for life. Like a soldier who has experienced the unspeakable on the battlefield we are traumatized. Like veterans we only speak of it among ourselves. We have a special bond , those that are left. We understand the flashbacks. The sudden spasm of tears. 

The irony is that we would all do it again. Would it be easier a second time? I don't think so. But we would.

Heres to those that are left.  Heres to their 'happy places'. Heres to their search for someone, something to end the emptiness, the loss. Here's hoping they ascend the mountain. Find the treasure, the happy place at the summit which is Christ Himself. "Too low they build who build beneath stars". (Streams in the desert. Cowman).