Hindsight and Forgiveness

I would love to say I was the perfect, patient, loving spouse in those last few months of my husband’s life but the truth is I wasn’t. I was frustrated and angry and terrified. We didn’t know what the hell was going on and he and I were coming at the problem from two different places.  I think we both knew something really bad was brewing.  I thought we could still turn whatever it was around so I put on my boxing gloves.  He thought if he ignored the problem it would go away.  Neither of us had a clue that the problem was the ‘it’ everybody dreads. 

You can’t candy coat the truth and be authentic. If I wrote that the journey I’m on is a cakewalk nobody would believe me – because it isn’t, I have regrets.  I said some really nasty things to a very sick man during those last few months and I hate myself for that. Admittedly he was no prize during that time either, but he had an excuse, I just didn’t know it. He was in unimaginable pain and pretending he wasn’t – he was pushing himself and I was pushing him and it was awful.

Hindsight is both dangerous and enlightening, we can choose to either learn from our experience or beat ourselves up.  I’ve been beating myself up.  A story can only unfold as details are exposed – hindsight has the advantage of knowledge. The journey to knowledge is fraught with confusion and fear – it is terrifying and laced with unknowns.  

A journey like this feels like you’re locked in a house with a monster; you have no idea how big the monster is, what weapons it has or what it’s intentions are. You only know it’s there and you’ve got to face it before you can fight it.  I’m a person who looks under the bed when I think a monster is there. Other people pretend to sleep and hope the monster quietly leaves the room while they’ve got their eyes closed.  It’s a bad mix when these two types of people are facing the same monster.

When I’m afraid I function on anger, it motivates me. I was angry at him for not dealing with the monster, furious that we would all pay the consequences of his denial.  These days I am angry at myself; for not being more patient, more sympathetic.  Sometimes I’m so angry I forget to be sad. 

At the end of the day we both lost – cancer was the winner.  This particular cancer was going to win regardless of when we acknowledged it or how hard we fought. This particular monster had the upper hand right from the word go.  

I hate to lose, I don’t give up a fight without a fight, so I fought a losing battle right to the bitter end.  And it was ugly. I’ve been told to cut myself some slack, that it takes two to tango, but I can’t seem to do that.  I can’t seem to find forgiveness for myself just yet. Regrets, especially in hindsight, are hard to cope with. 

I would like to believe that I’m not the only person who keeps nasty secrets, but even if I am I think it’s time I came clean. A secret gets heavier in the dark, it turns into its own monster and starts to eat a person from the inside out. Maybe the first step to forgiving myself is to learn from this experience.  Maybe hindsight has taught me to put down the gloves and rather than fight the monster, acknowledge it – say the secret out loud and take its power away.

I’m letting this secret out of the bag, I’m saying it out loud.  I wasn’t perfect or patient or even very nice during the last few months of my husband’s life. I said some really nasty things to a very sick man – and at the time I meant every word.  But I stayed in the game, I put up my dukes and fought with him for him. Even though we lost the battle I gave it my best fight.  If I take a breath I can see that he gave it his best fight too.  In hindsight he probably knew exactly who I would bring to the table, he probably wasn’t one bit surprised – he’d seen that fighter before. Maybe in hindsight and through his eyes I can see my way to forgiveness – or at least start trying.