I just kissed the one I love for the last time
And never have her soft lips then so sweet
She's gone away and won't be back forever
Think I'll go somewhere and cry myself to sleep
And never have her soft lips then so sweet
She's gone away and won't be back forever
Think I'll go somewhere and cry myself to sleep
I'll go somewhere and cry myself to sleep
Not just because I'm sad but 'cause I'm weak
I can't stand the thought of life alone without her
Think I'll go somewhere and cry myself to sleep
Just before she said goodbye she called me, Darling
And slowly ran her fingers down my cheek
I thought I'd die when she said she still loved me
And slowly ran her fingers down my cheek
I thought I'd die when she said she still loved me
Think I'll go somewhere and cry myself to sleep
I'll go somewhere and cry...
These are the lyrics to a tear-jerking song that always has a melancholy affect on me, but not for the reasons you may think.
I am twice widowed but, unlike the poor guy in the song, never had the blessing of kissing either one of my wives goodbye for the last time. And that always kind of saddens me. As primary caregiver for extended periods in both cases, I was off doing something else when last breaths were being taken.
With Anne who was in and out of a coma at the time, I left her bedside momentarily in order to get something to eat in the kitchen. "I'm going to get a bite to eat now...I called the girls and they are on their way over," I said. She seemed to roll her eyes in acknowledgement. When I returned 10 minutes later she was gone. Her brave nine-year struggle with cancer mercifully ended several weeks shy of our 40th wedding anniversary. *See One Couple's Journey With Cancer https://dicktheblogster2.blogspot.com/
Funny, but in retrospect I swear that along with the rolling of her eyes, I detected a slight sneer on Anne's face as I momentarily left her that day...As if to say: 'He's going to get something to eat and I'm laying here dying!' I hope I was wrong, but I knew my wife and how she thought sometimes. Incidentally, the girls, daughters Debbie and Cindy, did not make it in time either. They did not have supper and stopped en route to pick coffees to bring with them.
Nineteen years later, second wife Rosanne had endured multiple health problems over an extended period during our 17 years of marriage and had become a virtual invalid. On this particular fateful day the anxiety of it all was getting the best of me and I left her while napping to release pent up emotions by pounding some nails on a back entrance stoop I was adding to the house. I didn't want to disturb her and slipped away without saying anything. When I came back some time later to check on her, Rosanne was unexpectedly unresponsive. I pray she just went to sleep and never woke up.
I'll never know what those dear girls were thinking when they departed this world. Why wasn't I there to share precious last moments with them? Was I unknowingly guilty of abandonment at such a crucial time? If only I'd known. You can beat yourself up with that kind of thinking, but still you do it. Even now, years later.
Unless you have been there and done that, you really have no idea of how your mind and body reacts to situations of that nature. A stunned emptiness takes over and the best you can manage is to sit quietly with the deceased loved one while collecting thoughts and fleetingly looking for miraculous signs of life -- the heaving of a chest, the blink of an eye, the movement of a hand -- anything.
Time stands still but eventually you muster up sufficient strength to make those dreaded but ever so necessary telephone calls. Almost by rote you pick up the phone and dial -- 911 for police and ambulance response, then a coroner and ultimately an undertaker. Immediate family members, in my case a sister-in-law and brother-in-law, were left to last.
After all, there is just so much you can manage before collapsing into a heap of jelly-like, uncontrollable flesh and bones.
Hands on the clock continued to tick away carrying me along with them, all the while wondering 'did this really happen?' Pinching myself to see if it had a been just a bad dream.
In a matter of hours you find yourself all alone again listening to the sounds of silence in an empty house that had previously taken on Grand Central Station proportions with uniformed attendants milling around with useless life-saving devices and people asking questions that you wish you did not have to answer. That's when it all catches up with you and a sense of devastating loss kicks in for the first time.
Life will never be the same again.
That is also when you remember...My God, I never got to kiss my wife goodbye!
Then tears begin to cascade. You let it all hang out. And you 'go somewhere and cry yourself to sleep,' as they say in the words of the song about that lucky guy who got to kiss his wife goodbye one last time.
💔💔Click link below to listen to song 'Think I'll Go Somewhere and Cry Myself To Sleep' (skip the ads)
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