Tom's fall happened on a Monday. Just an ordinary day. We had our 3 hour breakfast. We read the morning paper. We sat in the comfort of each other's silence. We made plans for our day. We went to the gym. He worked out with his trainer. We came home and had lunch. He sat on the porch and read. I packed more suitcases for our pending departure. Then, he went into the kitchen for a snack. His favorite Cashew Nuts from Costco. Then he lost his balance and an ordinary day became anything but that. Tom died on a Tuesday. I keep remembering our last moments. I knew he was dying. I spoke it aloud to him. I thanked him for the life we shared and told him I loved him. His last words to me were "I'm not dying" and " I love you too." I held him in my arms until EMS arrived. I think his last conscious moments were in my arms.
And when I look back on this Ordinary Day, I find it so hard to believe that it has now become our last day. The last breakfast. The last workout. The last lunch. The last "I love you". I see that often in the "Ordinary" there is often the "Extraordinary". A life well lived. Moments to treasure. Smiles that said he was happy. But most of all, last moments that I will hold in my heart forever. My wonderful Tom had a beautiful death.
I don't think it is real to me quite yet. I keep wanting to tell him something as soon as I hear it. I almost taped our favorite TV show last night so he could watch it when he got home. I have to stop myself from preparing two bowls of fresh fruit. I keep waiting for his number to appear on my caller ID. I wait to hear him say, "Can you help me with this?"
He keeps sending me these magnificent sunsets. Right to my balcony. I can not look at a sunset without feeling him next to me. Yesterday he sent me a rainbow in the early morning. Wherever I see or feel sun, I will feel my Tom. Right now I feel it in my heart.