Death and mortality

Do I have a Death Wish?

No, I am not thinking of being that lone vigilante, so  dramatically played out by Charles Bronson in his old classic movie that bore the same title. And let me say too that I am not one who is prone to harbouring suicidal thoughts either.
My marriage life some 30 years back is largely blissful. There have been a lot more happy days and I cannot recall any really sad ones, aside from Jenny's recent passing on, where sad is not even close in description. Jenny and I went through the usual trials and tribulations of bringing up 3 kids in a rat race education system, while chasing our respective careers and we dealt with all the uncertainties of trial-and-error parenthood, without screwing up too badly.  In all, we built a happy family.

But life has now dealt me a really bad hand, to put it mildly.  Seeing my wife succumb to a dreaded disease has slam-dunked me with a whole new take on life and death. I now get up each morning with a lousy hollow feeling, wondering if I am actually waking into a bad dream instead and how I should get through another day.

If I could just get through yet one more day. 

Another day gone would be another day less to endure without her.  Live a day at a time and at some point I would live out my remaining days. This appears to be the new mantra that life has now dealt for me.  In truth it has already been 62 days since she passed on and I now perceive each day’s end as a day less without her.  It is really how I feel in missing her so much.

You see, when my wife passed on, a part of me has also died along with her. We have been a couple for too long, our lives, hopes and aspirations so tightly intertwined, our emotional bonds delicately forged since we first met and tempered over so many years of sharing a life together, such that we could read each other by the most fleeting  of glances, a frown or a simple smile. It was said on the day when we exchanged vows that only by death would we part. But as it has turns out, death has only set me yearning more for her.

So I question if this new reality in what remains as a sad life for me still worth pursuing? Would death not bring more comfort? I do not know what lies on the other side and I cannot claim that I do not fear death.  But I know she is unable to return to the living. I could look and search but there will not be another person who could replace her. Every which way I look, I see her but she is not there.  In death she has left me for sure, but sadly I could not leave her, holding on to my memories to fill up this vacuum that is hollowing me from within.
So if she cannot resurrect from death, then can I get to her if I take that big bold step to also end it all?

It is sad that I should allow such nihilistic thoughts to fester in my mind. Sad and shameful also. Jenny had displayed such remarkable courage when faced with what would be her biggest challenge in life, a challenge that she  did not bargain for and was not prepared to take on.  Late-stage cancer was a losing battle for anyone from the very start.

But she fought the hard fight with nary a tear. She was brave and stoic right through the end.

So how shameful is it for me to think of giving up at this point? If I should live through another 30 years of loneliness and heart-ache, these years would not amount to the pain and difficulties she endured over the 6-7 months of fighting and submitting to the disease.
So how could I be complaining of what I have to deal with?

If I need the will to get through another day, I need only picture my dear brave wife in her last months, fighting to stay alive till the very end.  Death may appear to bring peace and comfort but Jenny has given me good reasons to live, no lesser than for our children’s sake. Memories of her will inevitably sadden me as I am reminded of my loss but they will also harden my resolve to get on with life.  Or what is left for me.
My remaining journey in life will not be walked alone as I will have her in my heart.