In my bereavement group, there are widows and widowers whose spouse had died of cancer. Many talked about the rough last months and days before their spouse succumbed to cancer. One person expressed that those were very difficult times. But as if to assure herself and us that the there were others who suffered harder circumstances, she said, “But it wasn’t Afghanistan.”
I’m not sure how that image popped into her mind, but that statement hit me hard. It was a hard evening for me after that.
I have held back from describing a lot of what happened to Ruth on the day she died. Many times, it feels just too horrible to recount. I want others to treasure who she was in life. At the same time, I myself cannot forget what happened that day. I still have nightmares. And day-mares. One person suggested that what I am going through is almost a post-traumatic syndrome. I can say that if you took away the word “almost” you would be quite accurate.
Here, I can’t begin to describe what went on in the emergency room. But, to summarize it all, I will tell you one phrase that the ER nurse said to me about Ruth’s death: “I just came back from Afghanistan and this feels like it all over again.”