Gold Dust Woman
People die, of course. Death is part of life and deserves respect, but when it touches someone who is very close to you, the perspective in which you see Life changes forever.
It was July 2017 when my wife, who had never experienced any problems, was taken to the hospital because she was not feeling well.
It seemed like a passing malaise, but after fifteen days she died in hospital without being able to be surrounded by the affection of her loved ones for her birthday. She turned sixty, years lived lightly, and died prematurely from pancreatic cancer.
I watched her smile slowly fade and I felt her labored breathing grow fainter until her lungs, heart, and brain stopped working.
After a period of disbelief, in which I hoped to wake up from the nightmare, I had to accept the fact that it was a harsh reality.
To look for the light in the dark I have read a lot about death, I have listened to the experiences of other people affected by serious illnesses, the death of relatives, or separations. Then I asked God why it happened to her and why I had to suffer that trauma, but I have not found certain answers.
It was not easy, neither accepting his death, nor my new condition as a man, but I understood many things.
I understood that we must never wait, never postpone the things that can be done today until tomorrow because there is no certainty about tomorrow. My wife and I postponed trips by saying “there is time”, but then the time for her ran out. We thought we had time to spend without realizing that we didn’t really own time. None of us own it.
I learned to accept pain, making peace with the world and myself, immersing myself in the sufferings of others, to make them my own by helping to make them more bearable. I went to Africa, to Congo as a volunteer and I saw the misery of those places, when I returned back I recognized the opulence in which we live and the waste we do every day and I understood that the misery of those people is also due to our way of life: beyond our possibilities. I learned to smile, to apologize, to greet those I meet on the street, and to forgive.
I realized that it is useless to move objects, change the arrangement of the furniture in the house and buy new things. I have done it over and over again, but if you really want to change your life you have to change space. This does not mean forgetting the past, but respect it by crystallizing its events. To change your life you have to change spaces, change homes.
I understood that a new life is possible, that you can always start over and today I have a new love, a new home, and a new life because life always puts us in front of choices and we have to choose if we really want to live and not survive.
No, it wasn’t easy, even given my no longer young age.
I rediscovered music, many authors I didn’t know and who wrote wonderful lyrics. My musical journey developed following the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance). Now music has become a life partner and makes me appreciate every moment of it better.
I learned to write, to better develop thought, to meditate, and to give thanks for the things that each new day gives to me.
It wasn’t easy to even open up to tell it, but pain can only be healed by accepting and sharing it.
Now I am a different and perhaps better man. The death that struck my wife also affected me, changing me profoundly, she is no longer there, but I am still here deeply different.
P.S.
While my wife was in hospital one morning I found a page from an old newspaper on the seat of my car. I never understood how it could have ended up there, it was a July Thursday newspaper and on the front page there was an article entitled “Second home …”.
My wife and I had always told each other that if one of us was missing, the other would move house.
My wife died a week later, it was a Thursday, the same day when I found the newspaper on the seat. Some omens bring misfortune, appear piercing you and you would like to die with them, but others make you change direction forever.
