IN LOVING MEMORY
Bill's favorite thing was to hike through the woods and around the shore with our three labs and me.
BILL DYER
Thirteen years ago today (January 9) Bill had his prostate removed at EMMC by Dr. Rao. The surgeon
was so optimistic that he got all of the cancer. He was so sure, but the pathology report came back a week later with bad news. All of his surgical margins were positive including his seminal vesicles, bladder neck and urethra margins, meaning there was still cancer left in his body. It was a Gleason 9 (45% 4+ 55% 5), so we knew then that our fight had just begun.
It was the beginning of Bill’s long journey to remain in his human body for as long as he could to enjoy this life for as long as possible. And that is what Bill did, he lived life to the fullest right up until his last breaths. When he came out of his first surgery, within minutes he had a room full of people laughing with his Maine dry humor and wit. He sense of humor and wit remained with him through the remainder of his long fight.
One of the last times that he spoke to us, he had the entire house belly laughing after he tricked my step mother to hug him only so he could get her into a position to scratch his back. He gave us a one liner as he often did, and then we all sat there laughing and feeling good to have known him and to call him our friend.
Then a few moments later he asked, “Wendy, am I dying?” and my family and friends fell quiet while I held his hand and answered, “Yes, Bill, I think that you are getting much closer than ever before. We are getting very close to the time that we have been preparing for all this time. But look, we are all here to be with you and to share it with you so don’t be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid.”
He looked at me(though he couldn’t see me because he was blinded by misdiagnosed strokes seven months before he died) and softly said, “Oh, ok.” He laid his head down, closed his eyes and went to sleep. He never spoke again. The next morning I got up before everyone else so I could take the time to bathe Bill alone. I sensed that he was going to die soon and I needed one last tender moment with Bill. We needed one moment of intimacy, so I bathed him one last time.
He was somewhat restless, as if he were trying to talk so I said to him, “It looks like you are trying to talk Bill, but you are having trouble finding your words. I know that it must be frustrating, but don’t be afraid. If I know you, you are probably trying to tell me how much you love me like you always do. Well, if that is what you are trying to say, all you have to do is blink your eyes and I will know that you are trying to tell me that you love me.”
With those beautiful, blinded blue eyes, he distinctively blinked two times with all of his strength. We looked at each other with tears in our eyes for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and went off to sleep. I finished his bath and then the boys woke up. The house began to fill with my relatives. Bill was never able to communicate again after that. He died less than twenty-four hours later.
What a journey that Bill and I had together. It really started thirteen years ago today. Bill’s long fight is over, but my journey goes on. I’m still trying to find my way. I have been lost for so long. I just wish that my heart would stop hurting, my soul stop yearning and my body stop aching for my beloved Bill. I wish that I wasn’t so afraid all the time, I wish I knew my purpose in this world, and I wish that I could once again know the peace and love that I felt with Bill.
But then I think, maybe I am not meant to love again. Perhaps the gift of Bill’s love was one that was meant to last a life time. Maybe I was destined to only love and be loved by him. And maybe my peace will come in the remembrance of our love and in my telling of our story. Maybe that is what my life’s work will be and the love that we shared will fuel my efforts to try in some small way to make a positive contribution to this world, in the life that is but a fleeting moment in the larger scheme of things.
Wendy Newell Dyer
Wendy,
Thank you for your beautiful post. I too lost my partner recently (Sept, ’10) from brain cancer. We had many wonderful times together in our 27 years, here in Maine and in NM. She died in my arms, also blind from her illnes, but full of love and humor til the end.
I am still fumbling my way along. I feel upside down sometimes but still very close to Tracy. I live on the Blue Hill Penninsula and am always up for conversation and support.
thanks again for sharing! Lynnsey
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Hi Linnsey;
I am sorry for the loss of your partner:( September ’10 is still so fresh and recent; I hope you are patient with yourself?!! I believe it is good you still feel “very close to Tracy”; it sounds as though it is comforting for you. Many people must turn-off any memories or emotion to continue to function day to day.
I have no idea where Blue Hill Penninsula is located, but it sounds secluded. You will find there is usually someone online most of the time, and then there are a few (of us) night owls who pop-in at 2 or 3 am. Take care and check-in with us!
Lynn
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Dear Sweet Wendy,
This beautiful love story brought tears to my eyes….but they were tears of compassion and the joy that you got to share so much of unspoken love at the end.
The picture of Bill and his “pal” also made the story that much sweeter. His smile said a lot of this courageous man.
Thank God for the wonderful caregiver that you were. I know that there were hard times, good times, exhausting times, treasured times and forever love time.
Your post will touch so many people. I know that it did me. And don’t ever lose heart…..because you have a beautiful one.
~Bev
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Hello Wendy,this beautifully written love note to your late husband, has brought tears to my ears. U R not alone, you have so very much to give to the world. Thank you for sharing and God bless. You have made a “positive contribution to this world”, by sharing this truly beauiful story.
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Thanks so much CM. Yes, I do believe that I am contributing something positive to the world by sharing our story of endearing love through the most difficult of times. I appreciate your comments.
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Wendy, I’m so moved by your account of the final earthbound days of Bill. I remember the scene with Sandy. I can hear their common laugh as they held each other. I can also hear him asking you if he were dying. So many memories, so many joy filled special moments, so many difficult times to accept what was in front of you. Bill is very much still with each of us who shared his life in some way. You have the special place because you were his sole mate, his love, his friend and in the end, his physical caregiver. I’m sure it’s not easy as you review what has taken place. I’m sure that your yearning for his physical presence is most difficult. I can tell you one thing for sure, Bill would and wants you to be happy. He would want you to find ways to spread your love toward your fellow beings. I’m sure that if and when the time comes, you’ll know the answers to the questions you pose. For now, I’d work on being happy because that is what Bill would want, he alays did.
Thanks for sharing this special place in our collective lives.
With Much love
your dad
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