Little MS CrankyThank you, all, for your beautiful comments.  I hope to blog again soon. My amazing sister has been helping me stay up to date (I am in the midst of funeral preparations).  It is she who is the blogger extraordinaire.

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My ex-husband died tonight.

I’ve written that into scripts and scenes and backstories and 1.4 million entries of my journals.

But then it really happens.  And luckily, God wrote this script.  Because, over the 22 years I’ve known my ex, it hasn’t been easy.  It was often fun.  I laughed and cried and laughed some more.  I got cancer.  I attended a lot of Al-anon meetings.  I wished his death on at least one major occasion, and luckily God knew me better than that weakness of character and said No.

I loved this man.  Even throughout the hurtful times, I would see what drew me to him.  A heart that was bigger than the ocean, especially for the downtrodden.  A desire to always laugh and have fun and go out where the people were young and alive.   A deep desire to be better than the addiction that plagued him most of his life, starting when he was just a kid.  An unwavering love for our boys, that kept him alive this past 24 days when the doctors kept saying, “He is dying.  We don’t expect him to make it until morning, so come now.” We came now every day, just in case.

He waited for us to come today.  It had been a very rough night, and an even worse day.  Over the past 23 days, he had been so present for them.  Inspiration.  Jokes and laughs.  Fatherly talks from his ICU bed.  The forced abstinence from alcohol had turned him back into the Prince Charming he could often be.  He asked me to stay one night, alone, so he could tell me important things before he died.  He told our boys how much he loved them every day.

But today had been awful, we were told.  He had had many, many, many visitors, but tonight, we were the only three there.  We wanted to give his girlfriend (my dear friend) a break after the awful day.  And when she left, we prayed together over him, our boys and I.  And we talked to him and told him we loved him.

It was the first day where he couldn’t talk to the boys, because he could no longer talk.  His breathing was loud and labored.  Which is how we knew when he had passed.  “Mom, he’s not breathing!” my son suddenly said, panicked.  We called the nurse.  He had died peacefully and with his boys by his side, just as he had hoped.  He was much too young.

So today I thank God for writing this script.  My ex could not stop drinking, and so he was fated to this future much too early.  But God gave him these beautiful weeks, and gave our boys not only these amazing extra hours with their dad, but a true dedication to the father they loved and didn’t always get to see as much as they wanted to.  They went every day.  They spent hours, happy to be there.  I hope that being there when he died eventually helps make the hurt less raw than it is for us all right now.

And that was the biggest gift God gave to me.  Over these past 24 days, I let go of all anger.  Begrudgingly.  With many set-backs.  Slowly.  But completely.  I saw again the troubled but truly good soul who had swept me off my feet and gave me the two greatest gifts in the world.  I am so sad.  And not just for our boys — though most especially for our boys.  Sad at what might have been for this sweet man.  Sad that he hadn’t been able to kick the demons.  Sad that it took his final month to bring us all back together, so close.

End.  Fade Out.  Bravo to the greatest screenwriter of all.

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