I was sleeping early on the morning of the 5^th day when the ringing of the phone woke me up.  “I’m taking your husband back into surgery,” the surgeon told me.  “I don’t think we should wait for you to get here.  He’s in lots of pain.”  I agreed they should not wait for me and said that I would come down from the mountains to the hospital as quickly as possible.  The older children had been awakened by the phone ringing, and helped me decide how to handle this latest emergency.  My oldest son offered to stay at home with  his 4 year old sister, and get the others off to school, while my second son agreed to come with me to the hospital.  As we drove down the mountain pass, the bright orange sunrise seemed to fill the whole sky, as I’ve never seen it before or since.  I told my son that I was glad his Dad and I had shared Holy Communion together the night before, in the hospital room, when a priest had also anointed my husband.  I shared with my son, as we drove to the hospital, that his father and I had shared The Eucharist as our first meal as a married couple, during our wedding mass.  It had always been very special to us.

Upon entering the waiting room outside surgery, a nurse immediately approached and asked if my husband had ever had heart problems before.  I told her he hadn’t.  Soon after that conversation, the surgeon came into the waiting room with tears on his face, and I knew.  “No!  No!  I need him!  I love him!” was all I could cry over and over.  How I loved him!  We were still having fun together.  We were so happy!  We still held hands as we took walks.  We still loved dancing in the dark after the kids were asleep.  We still liked to sit outside, in the quiet of the night, looking up at Colorado’s star-filled sky.  We loved being together!  We were very intimate!  We still laughed together all the time.  He could not be dead!

©Pat Montesano 2003 All Rights Reserved.