Connie (Mrs. WebSlave)

So sorry Rich. My brother in law just passed a few days ago. He had Alzheimer's and Parkinson disease. Hard to watch them go. Will be thinking of you both.

Today, I gave my last gift to my wife. On 11-02-2023 a pastor from the local church came by to visit. He blessed and saved Connie. Unfortunately I had a doctor's appointment and had to leave, so I didn't witness the entire thing. When I came back, the pastor was gone, but Connie looked at me smiling, and said "I have been saved." She looked so relieved.

Her sisters bought her a necklace with a cross on it to signify the event. Connie wanted to make it special and asked to have it engraved with the date. So today I did that for her on the laser. My hands were shaking the entire time, because I only had one shot to get it right. That cross is so small.

But it came out beautifully, and I put the necklace back around her neck, knowing this will be the last gift I can ever give her while she is alive.

I don't expect her to live through the weekend.

Connie passed away this morning at roughly 5:30am.

Rich, I'm so sorry. (((hug)))

Very sorry to hear. I hope you will feel some comfort knowing she has no more pain or fear. Take care.

Rich, I am truly sorry for your loss.

I am so very sorry. My condolences for your loss. Rest in peace, Connie.

It was very odd Saturday morning.

I distinctly heard Connie's voice call out "Punkie!". That is short for the pet name we use for each other, "Punkin' Baby". The voice was her voice before her rapid down hill slide the past week or so. I was in a dead sleep on the couch next to her hospital bed. I happened to check my phone on the couch and it was exactly 5:30am. Not sure why, it just seemed important at the time.

So I got up to check to make sure she was still breathing. She was not. Her face was cold to the touch, but the back of her neck and torso were warm. I put an O2 sensor on her finger to check her pulse, and it was a straight line. Yeah, that is when I lost it. My Punkin' Baby had died. But somehow she called out to me in her passing.

Hospice was called and someone came out to verify that she was no longer alive. Then the funeral home was called and they took her body away. It is all a blur now. But I will never forget her face laying on the bed looking like wax and the fingers on her hands crossed across her chest being almost white. She looked so beautiful.

Now just to add to the weirdness, this morning I was awakened from a deep sleep, and felt I needed to see what time it is. It was 5:30am again. That was the only time I checked the time the entire night.

Real curious to see if that happens again. I sure would want to know what it means.

No idea what I am going to do with the rest of my life now. Connie's two sisters are still here, but soon they will need to return to their own lives. Being here all alone is going to be very trying, at best. Hopefully the meds I have been taking for just over a week will be able to pull me through with my sanity intact. But I really feel fragile and brittle around the edges.

Short term plans are to plan for the funeral, I'm sure Connie's sisters will help. Then give yourself time to grieve and accept Connie's death.

After that, decide whether you want to stay where you are. It may be too much to stay in a place where everything reminds you of Connie, all the gardens and trees you planted for her.
And you might decide that keeping up with your large estate, and the possibilities of hurricanes and adverse weather are just too much to contemplate, and that you might want to move.

You have many well wishers here, and many who want to keep you in their thoughts and prayers. Give yourself time to think through what you might want from the future.

I have no idea what I am going to do. Connie said it will give me happiness to see the things we have done here together and remember those times. I told her I thought it would be like razor blades cutting into my heart. She asked me to promise her I would not do anything drastic for at least 3 months. Others have said giving it a year would probably be better.

I am rather isolated here. But honestly, a friend took all three of us to dinner on Sunday, and even in a crowd I felt alone. Maybe even more so, because Connie wasn't there with me. So moving somewhere else likely wouldn't solve anything. Anywhere I would go I would still be without Connie.

Debbie and Karen are leaving in the morning. So I will be here all alone afterwards, and not really sure how that is going to hit me. It was somewhat comforting having someone around here. But they have to get back to their lives, and I have to figure out mine now.

Wish Hospice had picked up the equipment. Kind of unsettling to have that hospital bed Connie died in still sitting in the middle of the family room.

Been taking the escitalopram my PCP prescribed for me daily, and occasionally will pop a diazepam. Wish the tech who showed up to confirm Connie's passing away hadn't destroyed all the stress relieving pills Hospice had prescribed for her. May have come in handy sometime. But I think the escitalopram must be working at least somewhat, because I am not exactly the basket case I thought I would be. Only intermittently throughout the day.