Another girl, another blog


One year
February 23, 2010, 7:45 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Feb. 21, 2009:

The beginning of the end…the night before Aaron fell out of his hospital bed in the front room and I had to call my brother in law to come over at 3am to help me lift Aaron off the floor and put him back in the bed. I “slept” on the couch in the front room, but probably got a half-hour of sleep after that incident. Family came over, I finally decided that it was time to contact a local funeral home regarding arrangements. August stayed up with him during the night so I could finally get some sleep.

Feb. 22, 2009:

Sunday morning. My dryer was still out, so I decided to go and do laundry. At 3:00 I had an appointment at the Long Beach Forest Lawn to start making arrangements. Nicole came over and had jelly beans. She gave Aaron some on the little bedside table he had and when she took one, he looked up at her and said something very cute (I think along the lines of, “you took my jelly bean!” in a British accent….I can’t really remember).

As Deb, Nicole, Vanessa and I were leaving the Forest Lawn, I got a phone call from the hospice nurse who had come over to the house to help with Aaron. She told me that Aaron was in the “active stage of dying” and had anywhere from a few hours to a few days. I broke down. I called his dad and step-mom and told them what they needed to know and asked them to come over and say goodbye. A hospice chaplian came over and prayed with all of us.

For some reason, Aaron was craving a Big Mac and a “dozen hot wings from Wing Stop.” Scott and Chrystal, god bless them, went and got those things for him. He actually managed to keep down 3/4 of his Big Mac, but none of the wings. For the first…and last…time I let him smoke in the house. He looked at me and said, “I have to be dying for you to let me smoke in the house?” and we laughed, but behind the laugher, we both knew that there was nothing but truth behind that statement.

My “family of choice” came over with Roscoe’s and hung out in the back room. My mother-in-law was very annoyed by this fact, but like I told her, they weren’t there for a “Superbowl” party, but there for me to support me however I needed them to be. Most of them left, but Lisa and Nicole made plans to come over the next day. Deb stayed up with Aaron while I got some sleep.

Feb. 23, 2009:

Monday morning was a beautiful morning. I woke up around 6 and relieved Deb of Aaron-watch. I spent the morning with him, just talking and fighting (if he could get into the wheelchair and go outside).

Eric, one of Aaron’s best friends, drove 8 hours straight and came down from NorCal to spend some time with Aaron. Scott was there and the three of them had some good laughs for a few minutes.

At the end, around 3:00 pm, it was a sunny, lovely, quiet afternoon. Deb, August, Scott, Eric, Tracy and Lisa were there as we said good-bye to Aaron and watched him transition from this life into the next.

I don’t remember much about the rest of that night. There were phone calls, emails, texts, tears, hugs and just plain ol’ sadness. There was a point, after Aaron had been taken out of the house, where a group of about 15 of us were sitting around and telling stories about the first time everybody met Aaron. I don’t remember anybody else’s stories…but I remember the love that was in the room. There was a moment where I had a breakdown and Lance was there to put his arm around me and help me through it. Lisa spent the night that night. I went to bed before everybody else left, and went into my room and called Aaron’s phone more times than I can remember and listened to his outgoing voicemail message just to have that connection to him for as long as I could.

I cannot believe that it’s been a year since Aaron’s been gone. There have been so many changes in my life since that day, so long ago. Some good, some awful, some wonderful. I’ve grown more than I thought I could. I’ve cried more than I thought I could. But everytime, the tears have stopped and I have continued to function.

I keep moving forward because I don’t have a choice. I’m sure I could stand still, wallow in my grief, but I refuse to live my life at a standstill. But today, I will take the time to remember–not only that day, but the many days before that, and the handful that have come after.

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