If I Had Known

Facebook does a wonderful job with its “On this day” memory joggers posted daily on my feed. Reminders of happy times and the beautiful life I had with my best friend by my side. But since That Day, they recall a time when I lived in blissful ignorance. When a day was just another rotation of the earth, and the expectation of more “On this day’s” was not questioned. Now the memories trigger a new response – what would I have said/done if I had known it would be the last time my Kahuna and I would share that experience?

I thought we had more time. The best the oncologist could offer, with aggressive treatment, was two years. We had Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s Day and both our birthdays to silently contemplate the unspoken question – would they be our last? I could see it in his eyes when those thoughts crossed his mind. And I tried so hard not to let my worst fear override my hope. We bought tickets to The Eagles concert next September. Planned fishing trips in the Sierras this summer. Then complications to chemo took him suddenly, and the unspoken thoughts from which we so carefully protected each other were answered. There would be no new memories to be made. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Looking back now from my new widow’s perch, I ask myself what I would have done differently if I had known the innocent moments and annual milestones in our past year were going to be the last with my Kahuna…

If I had known:

• I wouldn’t have been cranky the day before he died. He was struggling with the newest chemo regimen, and I was concerned. I drove my weak Kahuna to doctor appointments to see if they could adjust medications or prescribe something new to help him. I was worried. Tired. I had become chauffer, caregiver, housekeeper, dietician and office assistant (he was still working, even in his weakened condition). By late afternoon, my fear and fatigue surfaced in a snippy retort to one of his innocent questions. When I snapped, he apologized to me for being so needy, and I felt horrible. If I had known he would be gone in a matter of hours, I would have dropped everything and been less selfish.

• I would have recorded him as he shared “stories.” They were his trademark, and he had a tale to spin on any number of topics and life experiences. If I had heard them once, I had heard them ten thousand times, yet he retold every story with the exuberance and expression as if it had just happened! I had even developed my own sign language when he was losing the attention of his audience – a gentle squeeze of his leg, if it was in range.  Or a simple sweep of my hand across my neck if the leg move wasn’t an option! He knew the gesture was his signal to begin wrapping up the story, which could take another fifteen minutes! If I had known I was hearing his tales for the last time, I would have begged him to continue. Now I find myself looking for old videos that capture some of his funny comments and George-isms.

• I would have paid him more compliments. I was the queen of corrections and learned over the years how my nitpicky attention to detail deflated him. “It’s Alz-heimers, not Alt-heimers.” Why did I let little things like that bother me? I don’t think I told him often enough what an amazing man he was. If I had known, I would have channeled my inner Mr. Rogers and told him every day how much I loved him, “just the way he was.” Because I really did!

• I would not have passed up an opportunity to share a kiss or a hug even in those moments that seemed irrelevant. I would have considered every expression of desire a huge compliment, instead of the occasional annoyance; “Honey, not here. Not now. I’m making dinner.” Oh how I miss his touch now.

• I would have been more patient with his Adult Attention Deficit Disorder idiosyncrasies. Lists are essential to adults with ADD, and my Kahuna made it clear that any honey-do task or shopping trip with more than two items required a written back-up. Shopping lists in particular were interesting. If my list included, “Large can of Hunts kidney beans,” I could expect two of the three to four descriptors to be met – and have the large can of Hunts garbanzo beans in the pantry to prove it! If I had known, I would have thanked him for doing the shopping - and made hummus!

• I would have done fewer eye rolls when he was watching his old “classic” TV shows, and sat down with him - and laughed at the decades old jokes. It was actually this incident that triggered my earlier, snappy moment on his last day home. “Come sit down and watch TV with me.” he said. “I can’t. I still have to finish the laundry, get dinner started and return calls.” It haunts me now. If I had known, I would have sat with him the rest of the night.

Last anniversary. Last trip to Hawaii. Last winery visit. Last lunch date. Last Thanksgiving. Last hug. Last kiss. Last dance. Last. Last. Last. As I look back on the ordinary and extraordinary days we shared, it’s still hard to wrap my head around the finality they all represented as Paula and George. Before That Day, every day was beautiful, even in its uneventfulness. If I had known, I would have soaked in every last detail. His face smiling with his love for the Lovely Paula Marie. His hand holding mine. His laugh. The playful banter with others. Instead, I rely on saved iPhone videos and Facebook memories to keep his voice wrapped around me. I want to hold on to it forever.

Last Father's Day

Last Anniversary

Last Dodgers Game

Last NYC Christmas

I am bracing for the upcoming “firsts” without George. Father’s Day. Our anniversary –it would have been our 44th on July 6. Holidays. Birthdays. The list goes on, and I’m sure each will bring with it the memories of my happy Kahuna and his LPM – along with the tears that dwell behind the façade masking my broken heart. If only I had known.