One more day

I’m just going to use happy photos of Randy when the subject doesn’t lend itself to a photo of anything else.

TRIGGER WARNING: possibly upsetting descriptions of death and dying.

I’ve heard people say that they would give anything for just one more day with someone they’ve lost and I’ve wondered why - is one day significant? Do they just want a chance to say all the important things they didn’t get to say?

We had enough warning and time to say all of those things to each other as many times as we needed to. But I wish I could get one more day with healthy Randy so that my last memory of him would not be the horror of watching him die. He was emaciated, mostly unconscious, he couldn’t close his mouth or open his eyes, his hands had drawn up to his shoulders. And it haunts me that he might have been in pain.

And I would give anything to hear his voice again, the voice on the phone that talked me through the unraveling of my life in Iowa before I could return to California. And one more conversation full of random thoughts, jokes, silliness, making fun of each other, sarcasm, and exaggeration.