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Tomorrow it will be 7 years sense that Friday from hell that Johnny and I went through. The Friday that was to be his last on this Earth. As painful as it is to remember at least I know that he was alive still. He was with me that day.

As I edit my story I came across this page that I wrote telling about how writing it effected me. Even now seven years later my dread of tomorrow is as strong as it has been from the beginning. I almost expect my cell phone to ring as it did that morning and hear Johnny say it is time for me to get my buns up there and take him home.

In just three more days it will be the aniversary of his death. I know that then I will be able to get back to where I was a few weeks ago. It always hits me hard. Preparing for my trip is a life saver. I can't dwell on the memories all of the time. I will be leaving only 5 days after that aniversary.

From my story near the end.

I spent much of every day writing our story. I have a very good memory so not many details escaped me. I was able to write in such a way that I could put all of the details in the story along with the passion and much of the pain. I was also able to do in in a detached was as if I were writing about someone else. Not me and Johnny. I think had it not been for that I would never have been able to write about those months when things started to go so wrong and our life started to slip away.

It was only when I got to that last agonizing weekend that I could no longer write that way. I wasn't just remembering that time. I was reliving it in vivid detail. I could see and hear it all. Not one thing escaped me. Not the people nor the words nor the torment. I could see and hear Johnny and myself and every person we came in contact with. I relived the fear and frustration of that last Friday morning when he acted so afraid and determined to go home. I saw us in the emergency room and the attacks he had and myself showing him how he could control not only the attacks but his oxygen level. I heard the fire drill and saw that nurse put the Ativan in his IV and every minute of the reaction it caused. I could hear Johnny asking where that firehouse was that we were in. I could hear him begging to just go home. There was nothing I could escape. Every detail from the last three days of his life was there and I lived them over and over.

I had gone through such a hard time on the first anniversary of his death. I had lived through a torture after he died that no one should ever have to go through. But while writing about those last days my pain surpassed any that I had known before. I was back to day one and in many ways it was so much worse. When he first died I had the constant feeling that I was having a nightmare and would wake up. Now I couldn't do that. I knew that my nightmare was my reality. I saw every thing that had gone wrong and knew what could have changed it and kept him alive but it was too late. The reality of that hit me like a hammer and left me in the deepest depression that I have ever known. For days afterwords I thought that my life would never be more than that terrible pain and the memories that haunted me.

I went through the days in a fog. I didn't feel like I was alive and even worse I wasn't sure that I wanted to be. I couldn't help myself. There was no one to share my pain with. No one else knew. Telling about it could never be like living it. How could anyone really understand? Every detail was mine and Johnny's. We had gone through it alone, every terrifying minute all of the time of that terrible restlessness and constant movement. His last minutes in the ICU and his last breath we shared alone. Those were ours we lived them and he died and a part of me died with him. How could I ever make anyone understand what that was like? How could anyone ever understand enough to help me? Only Johnny knew. He was the only one who could understand. The only one who had shared those things with me and he was the only one who could help me but he was gone and I was all alone.

He found a way to do what no one else could. He helped me. His love for me gave me the strength to pull myself out of that pit of depression that threatened to destroy me. In bed at night I would feel that soft ripple on my leg or my hip. I would sleep so sound and wake up knowing that I had dreamed but not remembering my dreams. More and more I felt as if Johnny had been with me reassuring me. Telling me that I had to go on until it was time to be with him again.

On my walks the mountains and the trees seemed to call out to me and remind me of how precious life is. Slowly day by day just a few minutes at a time I felt myself emerging from the depths and once again joining the world. There is nothing specific that I can point to and say that is what did it. I just know in my heart that it is Johnny's love for me that helped me go on. His love that has always been there for me was once more giving me the strength to face a life without him just as it had so many years ago.

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