I remember this day last year so vividly. It was death eve. I remember Ash begging his hospice nurse to do something, please just put him to sleep, he couldn’t do this anymore, put him out of his misery. I remember the oxygen tank being brought in and all it’s long tubes and all the instructions that I didn’t quite understand coming along with it. I remember the very friendly man setting up the hospital bed in our living room right next to the sliding glass doors a. because that’s where it fit and 2. because that way Ash would have a view of the pond. I remember the looks of pity I received picking up the copious amounts of medicine I was to administer every hour on the hour to eventually put my husband out of his misery. I remember sending my mom to pick up more medicine that wasn’t ready and the fact that the pharmacist gave her a hug (I think I’m remembering that correctly).

I remember my children hugging their father one last time as they went to stay with my dad so that they didn’t have to see what was inevitably coming. I remember asking my mother to please stay with me, please help me, as I would be up all night essentially putting my husband to sleep. I remember crushing pills in between spoons like a real life junkie, mixing them in liquid in a syringe and forcing them down my husband’s throat. I remember introducing The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel to my mother and watching episode after episode followed by episode after episode after episode of Friends while trying to stay awake and trying to hold my shit together. I remember making inappropriate jokes about Ash going into the light so that I could get some sleep. I remember my mom being so strong and helpful and letting me drift off to sleep every once in a while, all the while she staying up and nudging me when it was time for medicine, more of the elixir that was going to to take my husband from me, my children’s father from them.

I remember the sun finally coming up and taking my dogs out. I remember going into the kitchen to make some coffee at 5:30 in the morning. And then I remember my mom walking out of the living room tell me that he’s gone. I remember asking how does she know and I remember her telling me because he’s not breathing anymore. I remember rushing back into the living room and falling at Ash’s side, sobbing. I remember, vividly, how he looked, so gray and frail with a pool of brown nastiness sitting in the curve of his shoulder. I remember calling hospice to inform them of his passing. I remember the nurse on call was coming from Elizabeth City and needed to get her son on the school bus before she could leave. I remember thinking how could her life be so normal while ours was completely falling apart. I remember insisting my mom call my dad to let the boys know they no longer had a father, being far too scared to do it myself.

I remember sitting in my kitchen for 2 hours, refusing to go back into the living room to look at my deceased husband, waiting for the nurse to get there. I remember her saying she would give me time with him before she called in the funeral home and I remember telling her I did not need more time with his dead body. I remember picking out the clean clothes that he would wear to the funeral home. I remember taking his $8 rubber wedding band so that it didn’t get lost in the fire, so to speak.

I remember not crying when the funeral home did arrive, feeling more numb than anything else. I remember again, making some inappropriate jokes and thinking they very well may have me committed somewhere sooner than later. I remember refusing to look as they wheeled my husband out of our home, never to see him again. I remember thinking life will never be the same again.

And life has never been the same again. We have felt an immense loss, unbearable grief, extreme loneliness and yet, here we are, a year later, doing ok, mostly. We remember it all. We are grateful to have known Ash, to have loved him. I am grateful he chose me to spend his life with. I will love him until my last breath. And I will miss him until my last breath.