...but I'm not. ...It still feels like he's here. Because I want SOOOOO badly for that to be true.
When William was sick in hospital, I thought for sure he would pull through. In my heart, I believed it. It seemed very likely, but there were so many factors out of anyone's control that conspired against him. I swear, it seems like God was his foe. First, there was the physical abnormality with his lungs that he'd had for years. No one knew about it. Chris, his brother, told me he had it too, but that their family thought it was only him, an anomaly. Something about him growing tall so quickly. But it wasn't. Nobody expected rarely sick, fit and healthy William to have the same deformity.
Then, there was the lung infection. There was his 14-hour trip to Australia which compounded things. William's stubbornness to admit that he was suffering from more than a cold. His desire to make a friend happy by going with the doctor s/he suggested, even though they were in a completely different city -- eight hours away! He was in hospital in Sydney and he left! He left!! They knew it was bad, the doctors, but they couldn't force him to stay. William was doped up on incredibly strong painkillers awaiting his stupid doctor's appointment in Melbourne, taking his life into his own hands. I'm angry with him for doing that! Sometimes I just want to punch things. I'm mad at myself for not pressuring him to stay at the Sydney hospital. I knew it was bad. Surgery was not a possibility, I thought it sounded like a guarantee! William refused to believe that. He thought I was just being a worry wart. I was... I am, but I was right! ...But what help is that to me now? That won't bring him back.
His last words to me, which will always make me cry, "Hi baby. Ok. Had tests and scan, had to get tubes stuck in to drain fluid and now am going to be prepped for surgery. He does not want to wait another minute so off I go. I'm ok though. Please don't worry. Know that I think of only you. I love you, kitten." A text I received on 11/12/2014 @ 1:30 a.m. my time. I had tried to stay awake, and I'm angry that I let myself fall asleep. I wish I had been awake during that text! Then I could have said some sort of proper "I love you" back!!!
The worst thing was the mistake during surgery that somehow caused his sudden cardiac arrest. Next there was his medically induced coma that was needed to keep him alive. A second surgery. And then he was coming to! He was opening his eyes, moving his limbs, making sounds, and trying to talk! It seemed like the horrible nightmare was coming to an end!! Like finally, life could resume. His time in the hospital placed my life on hold. Because he was my future, we talked about living together, marriage, kids, and none of that could happen until he woke up. ...But then... it stopped. He stopped coming around and things got bad again. They had to put him back on the ventilator, a "side-step" I was told.
Alas, it wasn't. It was a step backwards. He had gotten pneumonia. He was sleeping fitfully I was told, and then, all-of-a-sudden his body got peaceful. Mark, a family friend, got very worried. He said the calm made him think morbid thoughts. I tried to cheer him up. I said that it must be the new set of antibiotics working and William's body no longer having to fight so hard. Unfortunately... Mark was right. They hadn't worked. The anoxia had set in. Things were so bad that various organs were dying as the oxygen level in his blood kept decreasing. Mark had a breakdown. I didn't know what was going on without Mark's frequent emails, and so I was a bundle of raw nerves. Every day I anxiously awaited an email, an update, and there was nothing. Until Saturday, January 10th, 2015 when Mark wrote to tell me that William passed away.
It was like a punch in the gut. For two months I had tried to prepare myself for the possibility, but I wasn't ready for it. He was just so... so... amazing. A man who epitomized greatness in so many arenas. He was fallible. My love, my love fought as much as he could, but his body couldn't take it anymore in the end. I'm sad. I'm mad. And I'm tired of being those things.
I look at his pictures. I read his messages... and I'm happy again. It feels like he's here still. It's a vicious cycle.
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