She was given two months to live. That was at the end of summer. What would happen our kids? Would we be able to live a normal life? Those questions ran through my head day in and day out.
She laid there on the bed, IVs in her frail arms, hardly talking because she was so weak. When I looked at her I couldn't help but shed a tear, but I couldn't show her how much pain I was experienceing. We have been married for ten years and knew we wanted to grow old together. She sat there on the metal bed and I couldn't do anything except stand by her side with support every second of every hour of every day. Her eyes, squinty and small, were always filled with hope. There was never a bad thought in her head or a thought about death. The cows in the picture on the wall always made her smile, because it reminded her of her home when she was a little girl in Wyoming. She was very weak and famished and I was always hesitant to let the kids see their mother this way. She had gone through many tests and there was nothing that could save her.
I slept on that horrible couch or chair, every night. It pained me but I knew it didn't top the pain and suffering that she was going through, not just physical but mental and emotional. When I didn't want to leave her side, but I was so tired, I would fall asleep on the blue squeaky chair next to her bed hoping she would wake up the next morning. It was day and the two kids were coming. Kids their ages, ten and eight, should never have to go through something so tragic. But, when they came running into the room, their faces were always filled with joy. Every time they visited they brought one flower, never white because those were the colors of the boring room.
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