I returned to Florida from Maine earlier this year. I was basically alone and isolated for 8 years. It was a dreary place, wet and cold. Even though I was married I was very much alone, especially during the last 3 years due to my late wife's declining health.
It occurs to me that I allowed myself to become a doormat to my wife's children just to keep the peace. The truth is, for me there was never peace. I rarely rested as I was either working, attending to my wife or doing the necessary tasks to keep the household going. I could rarely have a coherent conversation with her due to the many medications she was on. She lived her life in horrible pain and I had to see this on a daily basis for the 11 years and 2 months that we were married. It was heartbreaking.
She spent the last 1 1/2 years of her life in a nursing home. I would see her as often as I could and I would call her every night. I watched her die on February 21, 2014 from a pulmonary embolism. A respirator was keeping her alive. I told the doctor to remove this and allow my wife to die with dignity. I left immediately after she died, went alone outside in the rain and cried.
I don't believe that I will every go back to Maine. It is a cold place. It is extremely hard to earn a living as there are very few good jobs there. In truth, there is really no one that remains there that I care to see. It is God forsaken.
At the end of 2012 my life imploded and I went back home to Florida alone for 8 months to recover economically, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I took a job at Walmart to save some money so I could return to Maine. I called my wife up each day, sent a care package of her special treats and personal items every other week. I wrote her 40 beautiful love letters.
In August of 2013 my brother drove me to the bus station for the trip back. He said that he was going to miss me. I told him that I knew in my heart that I would be back in 6 to 8 months because I knew that my wife was dying. I was going back to Maine to be with her during her final days. I arrived back on Aug 25, 2013. I left for Florida on Mar 1, 2014 the day after my late wife's funeral service. I gave a short eulogy at the end of the service.
It was a long bus ride going back to Maine for the last time. I felt sick in my heart. My only companion were my cigarettes and even those were trying to kill me. I smoke because they dull the pain. Currently, I am only smoking 2 a day but this must go down to one a day and soon, none a day. I have decided that I don't want to die and that life must go on.
I will offer a closing thought now on this ordeal. I learned something on the long trip back to Maine. It is not at all true but it is what I felt inside. Beyond New York there is no hope. Beyond New Hampshire there is no God.
