This evening is the eve of the eve of when you left me nearly four years ago.
I’d had plenty of warning of course as you had almost left me many times during the latter years of our marriage, but you always came back.
Now, as the hours crawl towards the moment you left me for good, I keep forgetting to breathe and when I remember to breathe the tears squirt out of my eyes onto the keyboard of my laptop and I don’t wipe them off. I don’t even wipe my eyes. I half hope that the wet keyboard will wreck the laptop and then I won’t have to write another word of this story until I get another laptop and, as I am very good at procrastination, that probably won’t be for awhile.
But the tears dry up no matter how much I try to coerce them to continue; their moisture evaporates from the keyboard and I am still reluctantly writing this chapter that I thought would be the finale. I guess writing the final chapter now gets most of the sadness out of my system and I can write the other chapters with more clarity? I’m not sure.
I remember this nearly-four-years-ago-evening vividly because, despite the fact that we were separated and had reverted to our original platonic relationship, I decided to stay the night with you. It just seemed right. You went to sleep early but I stayed up late watching a thriller with the sound down so as not to wake you.
You looked a bit surprised to see me the next morning, almost as if you had forgotten the previous evening. I think we spent most of the day watching Downton Abbey or it might have been The Office. You were quiet and I was noisy. You were sick and I was well. You were dying and I wasn’t.
You were dying and I didn’t know it because you had done this before and always returned like Lazarus.
This evening is the eve of the eve of when you left me nearly four years ago.
You left me and this time you didn’t come back.
jmgoyder 
even with everything, we truly never know when that moment will actually arrive
This is such a hard journey to take with you, Juli. It feels so real.
Heartbreaking.
This moved me…………………………
No one ever is prepared for the end
Somehow, I couldn’t imagine that my mum would actually die even though her decline was obvious. We had plodded along, adapting to the subtle changes, year after year, ignoring the inevitable future. Even now, two years later, I still imagine her sitting in her chair, watching Jeopardy, her eyes lighting up with anticipation when I brought her dinner. We don’t get over our loss; we just get used to it…but we still drip tears on our keyboard as we remember.