Can you even imagine it?
Can you even imagine:
What it’s like to never, ever, touch your mate again?
What it’s like to sit and hold each other’s hand?
What it’s like to never go for a walk, holding each other’s hand?
What it’s like to go to bed and they are not there, nor are they there for a hung and a kiss in the morning to start the day?
What it’s like to never just go for a ride, together, ever again?
What it’s like to never share a sorry or to tease each other, while producing memories and laughter?
What it’s like to only see their face, in just a picture of them?
What it’s like to never go to the farm and check on the cows, and have them come up for a loving let, and lick you?
What it’s like to never b e able to drive the four-wheeler, and look at the crops, not ever again?
What it’s like to go to the farm to load small bales, as you both laugh, and talk about how weak and old we are getting?
What it’s like to want to go out and eat on our “Saturday night date?”
What it’s like to never be able to go out and eat, as couples, with all of our dear friends, ever again?
What it’s like to never go and cook your mate’s favorite meal?
What it’s like to sit and watch your favorite sport, or movie, together, ever again?
What it’s like to sit and cry for hours, but it doesn’t bring back your mate, no matter how you cry?
What it’s like to have your five children, mates, and 12 of your grandchildren try to help, but it’s not him?
What it’s like to put on your favorite song that you both love? But it only brings back many memories.
What it’s like to sit alone in the gazebo all alone, again?
What it’s like to go to church and sit and talk to God, and try to understand what is happening in your life, and you are all alone?
What it’s like to never be able to help out at church, as a couple?
What it’s like, as a caregiver, to think about all the things that you could have, or should have done?
What it’s like, as a caregiver, to not doubt some of your decisions?
What it’s like to be a 24-hour-a-day caregiver, and in a gentle, quiet breath, they went to heaven?
What it’s like to wonder what to do with my life now, half of me has been ripped away?
What it’s like to lose a child, as many of my friends have, and go through many of the same grievances, as this, some different?
What it’s like to never be able to recite the Holy rosary together, ever, ever, again?
What it’s like to say, “Into your hands we commend out spirit?” We tried, but did we God?
What it’s like, 56 year ago, we both repeated our wedding vows and said, “Until death do us part?”
And IT did!
Sad, and crying, but trying,
Lucille Zimmerman, the survivor
