Rest in Peace

My friend's husband died in his sleep very early this morning, the light gone from his sparkly bright blue eyes. The last couple of years were fraught with one thing after another, from various surgeries to complications with diabetes to advancing Parkinson's, the aftermath of his military service in Vietnam, to a recent spot of lung cancer. Ten days ago, when I stayed with him while his wife went to work, he was bitching to me about the pain in his chest following lung surgery. When I laughed that all the surgeons did was "punch a hole," not rip his guts open, he challenged me to try it myself before I chided his pain.

"Get tough, Marine," I responded, again with a laugh.

Last weekend, he felt good enough to go out to one of the local casinos with his wife and spend a little cash at the tables. However,last Wednesday, when I stopped by to check on him, his bright blue eyes were dulled, his already painfully thin body more so, and his inability to articulate a greeting to me frustrating for him. He had taken a turn for the worse almost overnight, but I had not realized how much worse that turn was until then. The week before, he was on the way back to health as good as it was going to be, but now? Before I left, he recognized me and waved goodbye as I left his room with a "see ya," but he would not be getting better this time.

Sunday morning, I awoke with a start and drove to the hospital, where he had been since late Friday. I greeted him and he opened his left eye to see me, then moved his hand in my direction. The change from Wednesday to Sunday was dramatic, and I knew this would be a final good-bye. I held his hand and let the tears fall. I told him that I'm going to miss him and wish that he didn't have to leave so soon. He knew I'll help his wife through this, but Lord only knows how: she's been his wife for a very long time, but she's also been his best friend, and she's going to miss him something fierce.

Me, too.

I only stayed about 25 minutes Easter Sunday morning, standing by his bedside, holding his hand, and then I told him to rest in peace. I leaned over, kissed his forehead, said goodbye, and came back home to wait for the news I knew would come. Last night, his wife told him goodbye, that it was time for him to let go. He closed his eyes and went to sleep before she left his room.

There will be a small inurnment ceremony, complete with a Marine Corps honor guard, in a couple of weeks. His name will never appear on the Wall in DC, but he's a victim of the Vietnam War, the same as the all the others who lost their lives before him. Bob was a good guy, not just my friend's husband, but also my friend. He was proud of his service to his country and frustrated by his failing health the past several years.

Your permanent change of station orders came through. Semper fi, Marine.