Hello, my dear readers. This is by far the hardest post I’ve ever written since I’ve been blogging and I’ve debated whether or not to even write it at all. After a lot of consideration, I know I’m making the right decision in sharing this with you.
My husband, Marlon, died completely unexpectedly two days ago. To say I’m in shock and utter despair would be a gross understatement. I keep thinking I’ll awaken from this nightmare to hear his horrendous, yet somehow melodious, snoring.
Maybe if I write it all down, if I commit it to ‘paper’, it’ll seem more real. Maybe I’ll be able to go a full 30 minutes without a tissue. Maybe I’ll better understand what has happened, and is happening, to my life. Maybe I’ll feel better.
Or maybe not.
What I do know is my best friend of 21 years is no longer by my side and there are no words that aptly describe my sense of loss. And yet, here I am, trying. Trying to find some way to explain of the inexplicable. Not just for me, but for our 3 sons and our precious grandson.
I might not be able to explain why Marlon was taken from us so abruptly, so soon, so tragically, but what I can explain is what an absolutely incredible man he was and how many lives he touched.
I can explain how he died. More importantly, I can explain how he lived.
This isn’t easy, trying to find words that accurately convey who Marlon is/was. But I can hear him right now telling me to keep trying.
He was my biggest fan.
He loved that I blogged. Partly because he admired my writing but I think mainly because I finally had an outlet where I could pour all of my words. (Instead of his ears, bless his heart.) Whenever I’d get frustrated or depressed with blogging, he’d urge me to continue. When I’d question whether or not to share personal stories, he’d urge me to do it. As a matter of fact, he had a lot of his own ideas too such as activities for 4 year olds, a Google+ ebook, a step parenting series, to name a few. I’d argue that I just don’t have that kind of time and it isn’t that easy to write. And, as usual, I’d lose the argument.
When my father was in failing health in the 1990’s, Marlon wanted me to sit with Dad and write down his fabulous stories. But I didn’t and I regret that to this day.
I can’t sit down with Marlon now, but I can write his stories. For me, for our sons, for our grandson, for the
hundreds thousands of people who’s lives he touched.
Because I just can’t say good bye. Not yet.
I am continuing to write about Marlon, partly for our sons and grandson, but mainly because it is helping me to heal. So far I’ve written about our experience in the emergency room, his hospitalization and passing, and my Manifesto. Thank you for all of your prayers and kind thoughts.