It was very odd Saturday morning.
I distinctly heard Connie's voice call out "Punkie!". That is short for the pet name we use for each other, "Punkin' Baby". The voice was her voice before her rapid down hill slide the past week or so. I was in a dead sleep on the couch next to her hospital bed. I happened to check my phone on the couch and it was exactly 5:30am. Not sure why, it just seemed important at the time.
So I got up to check to make sure she was still breathing. She was not. Her face was cold to the touch, but the back of her neck and torso were warm. I put an O2 sensor on her finger to check her pulse, and it was a straight line. Yeah, that is when I lost it. My Punkin' Baby had died. But somehow she called out to me in her passing.
Hospice was called and someone came out to verify that she was no longer alive. Then the funeral home was called and they took her body away. It is all a blur now. But I will never forget her face laying on the bed looking like wax and the fingers on her hands crossed across her chest being almost white. She looked so beautiful.
Now just to add to the weirdness, this morning I was awakened from a deep sleep, and felt I needed to see what time it is. It was 5:30am again. That was the only time I checked the time the entire night.
Real curious to see if that happens again. I sure would want to know what it means.
No idea what I am going to do with the rest of my life now. Connie's two sisters are still here, but soon they will need to return to their own lives. Being here all alone is going to be very trying, at best. Hopefully the meds I have been taking for just over a week will be able to pull me through with my sanity intact. But I really feel fragile and brittle around the edges.
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