One more 10th of the month...

one more anniversary of the last day we had together, the last day we were hopeful that things would turn out all right. One more time that I remember everything that happened that 10th of the month of June. And now, I'm not going to read what I wrote a month ago, I will simply say my feelings tonight. In fact, I think I'll start that as a habit: I won't reread my old posts. I don't need it. If I change my mind, I promise to fess' up. The only problem, I'm afraid, is that I'll repeat myself. But that's OK, I don't remember what I write anyway, so I won't bore myself for sure. As for you, my friends: don't read two posts at a time!

A month ago Archie woke up very tired because he hadn't been able to sleep well, it was hard to find a position to be comfortable in. During the morning I had to limit visits from friends and family, so that he could nap. And he did. He felt much better. His breathing was improving. They were able to reduce his mask oxygen settings from 95% (considered max) to 60% in a few hours. That was a big improvement, since he had been out of the ventilator for just 2 days.

I went home to put Nen down for his nap. Mary was with him when he received a visit from the OPT (occupational and physical therapy) department. Mary told me in detail all they did and how Archie was radiant with joy. "Finally I'm doing something for my own recovery -- he said --, so far it was just people telling me what to do and putting meds on me, now I get to move my arms and legs, put my feet down, stretch, etc."

Then I arrived and the dietician made her appearance in the room to do a swallowing test. She was deaf but could read lips. She was very satisfied with the results and started Archie on solids. She adviced me to feed him the rest of the food but slowly. I did. When I had to go to put Nen to sleep, Olga stayed and she fed him the rest of the food.

At my return, I was able to have my last beautiful moments with my love. Dawn was his nurse. Nothing could go wrong. At 10:30 I agreed to abide by the rules and left. Dawn would take good care of him, he needed to sleep a lot, and I wanted to help.

I left. The next morning my love wasn't in the room. The next morning was hell on earth. Now I know what happened: now I know they forgot to give him the only medicine that had returned him to life. And they forgot it for a long time (4 days), in fact, they didn't even remember to give it back, I did. But it was too late.

Now I won't ever have my precious love sleeping in bed by my side, Nen won't wake up and come to the "parents' bed" to greet us good morning before going out of it with one of us, letting the other one sleep. We as a family won't have lunch together and we won't go the park together. We won't be able to share the progress of Nen and the beauty of raising him.

Looking ahead into the future feels so slow-moving (when will all my days pass, so that I have a chance to see my love again or, in the worst-case scenario, not have to miss him because I don't exist) but when I look back, I can't believe already 5 months went by. It's the boredom of living this loss. Every day is just any other day, unlike before where any day was intrinsically happy, because it had us in it.