In my previous blog, I shared our story, getting married and his death. The five days between our wedding and his death are etched in my soul. When we returned home on Sunday from Greencastle after we got married, life went on. Bill laid in bed and he was uncomfortable. During this whole process his stomach would retain water and the pressure would create pain for him. I would take him to the hospital and we'd sit in a room while they drained six to eight pounds of water from his body. The Monday after we were married, I took Bill in for his drain. He was very weak, but the silent communication between us was overwhelming. We held hands the entire time he was in there and I talked and talked and talked to this man. On our way home, I thought it was time to get a wheelchair. He was just so weak and I had bought a cane, but he needed a chair.
His youngest daughter called when I was inside. She was sick and staying home. Bill wanted to get some thing to eat and he wanted Bob Evans! I told him Ashley called and wanted us to come pick her up. He was agitated. He did not want to go get her, but I was torn. She was losing her dad and probably just wanted to be with him. He knew this wasn't the case. She was a bit of a drama princess and he knew both of his daughters had pushed me over the edge in the last week or two with their neediness. But, against Bill's wishes, I drove over and picked her up. We all went to Bob Evan's and it was really a very unpleasant experience for us. Ashley was 14 at the time and prior to Bill's death, his girls really liked me, especially Ashley as we had spent a tremendous amount of time together, but as I've said, death brings out a side of you that should probably be kept under lock and key.
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| Bill & Ashley |
Ashley ordered the most expensive thing on the menu as she always did and then picked at it like a bird. Bill was so agitated and he kept motioning for me to take him away. I thought he had to go to the bathroom and I was beside myself trying to figure out how I was going to manage that one! Should I go in the men's or women's? He was too weak to use the restroom alone. Should I wheel him in there or get his cane? Millions of questions trampled my thoughts, how was I going to do this?!?
How do you tell a 14 year old that she was not welcomed? I explained to her that she was sick and that it was probably not wise for her to be around him. She refused to listen. So, I suggested she call her mom and if her mom would come pick her up after work, she could come home with us. Her
The next day, I could sense we were very close to the end. I had hired an attorney when he was hospitalized the first tine so that he could get a Will prepared and written. He didn't have much. He filed for bankruptcy two days after his 49th birthday and I knew two weeks later he had not acquired any wealth that I was aware of, except for a bride and she was just barely hanging on as it was. I called the girls and told them that perhaps they should come to the house and say their good-byes. He was too weak to talk, but he could hear everything you said to him. I told them, hearing is one of the very last senses you lose before you die, so talk to him.
I came into the kitchen and was preparing dinner for them, when after less than 10 minutes they came out to the kitchen. I was puzzled. "You are done talking to him?" "Cindy, will you come back with us, we don't know what to say to him." It struck me that although they were 14 and 19, they were still very little girls losing their daddy. So, I coached them. Just talk, about anything. I've been talking to him non-stop now for four days. Tell him stories that you have of the three of you. Tell him how you feel, whether you love him or not, but just talk to him. I called the rest of the family the next day to come say their good-byes. The girls didn't stay long, I'm not sure if it was just too emotional for them, or that they were so self centered they had other things they preferred to be doing. I think the last one suited the situation more than the first. They never took time for Bill, unless they wanted some thing from him and I witnessed this all too often. To the point that at Christmas 2004, I told them to not come over if they did not bring a gift for him.
The Christmas before, was our first Christmas together. He didn't have any money to buy gifts for those girls, but he did. He wanted to have them over for a big dinner and opening of gifts. They were too busy. They came over and "forgot" his gift. Well, not "forgot" it, it just wasn't ready yet. This was normal behavior for them and he was not surprised at all. I was seething. For the next year, I reminded them of how they treated him both on Christmas and his birthday and I put my foot down. If they didn't bring a present and stay for dinner, than don't bother coming. Before I knew Bill was sick, I said to them, "What if this is the last Christmas you get to spend with him, is this how you want to remember it?" I will never forget that, because six months later, he celebrated his last Christmas with us.
They came to the house and in your typical teenage ways, they let it be known they were not happy being there. We opened our gifts. I was so pissed when they gave him theirs. The Christmas before, they had apparently had their photos taken for his gift, but they never gave it to him. So, this year, they wrapped up the pictures and gave it to them as their gift. He was not surprised, this was just how they were.
So going back to the Tuesday night before he died, I laid next to him and rambled on and on about who knows what. I listened to him breath, it was so labored. I just kept waiting and praying that next breath would come and it did. The attorney was coming in the morning for Bill to sign his Will. I would remind him every day what day it was and what was on the agenda. I must have dozed off because all of a sudden I could no longer hear the labored breathing. I felt him sit up in bed rather suddenly and as if nothing was wrong, just as clear as he spoke before he got ill, he said, "I need to know that you are going to be OK." I replied, "Yes, I'll be OK." "No, Cindy, I need to know you are going to be alright, you are OK with everything, the Will and all?" "Bill, I'll be fine, don't worry." And as quickly as he sat upright, he collapsed and the labored breathing started all over again.
This is common. It is a surge of energy that they get just before they are to die, a means to express their final thoughts or wishes or to say good-bye. The next day, I could hardly get him out of bed and to the couch to sign his Will. He couldn't even sign his name, he just scribbled on the papers.
My gut told me that this was not going to be good enough, his ex-wife would challenge it, but the Will was merely my idea for Bill to state his final wishes. When the attorney came to visit him at the hospital, I walked out of the room so he could have his privacy. I didn't want him to feel pressured. I wanted him to speak his wishes to the attorney. I had no hidden agenda. I made these arrangements for him. When he signed the Will, it was then I discovered what he had wanted. He was splitting up his Estate between the girls and I. Each of them were to be given 40% and I was to be given 20%. I was smart enough to know that any percent of nothing, meant nothing, but the girls had other ideas.
That evening as everyone gathered around, I took the girls into the spare bedroom. I told them to pick out a ball cap, a sweatshirt and one of his running shirts and to never wash it. To keep it and when they missed him, hold the item close and breathe deep and they would be able to smell him, but they couldn't wash the item. I knew they thought I was crazy, but I knew this was all they would have of their father and it was all I had to give them.
But as we gathered around, we were waiting for his sister from Pennsylvania to come home. I think Bill was the one who really wanted to say good-bye to Jonnan, but it just wasn't meant to be. I had allowed the girls to have their Mom there, but with the strict rule that she was not allowed to come down the hallway to the bedroom. She could come to support them, but she had to stay in the back of the house. Bill and his former wife, did not like one another and I did not feel it was necessary for her to be standing at his death bed, but I did feel the girls needed their mom.
As we waited for Jonnan, I kept telling Bill that it was OK if he wanted to go, that we would all be fine and that he didn't need to stay and endure this pain. But he continued to fight for his every breath. I wasn't sure how I could let him know that I was going to be OK. I knew that two nights before he was worried about my well being so I pondered as to how I could let him know, I would be OK.
I had the perfect idea! A few weeks prior, Christmas 2004, Bill didn't have money to buy gifts, but he gave me the most prized gift I have ever received in all of my life. It cost him nothing, except some time, some scrap paper and a cheap cookie jar he picked up at Target. For inside this cookie jar, he had taken colorful scraps of paper and had hand written on each piece a reason why he loved me. Forty eight little sheets of scrap paper. I asked for someone to hand me this cookie jar that I kept in the bedroom. I was sitting up by his head and I opened up the cookie jar explaining to everyone what it was.
I proceeded to read them off. One by one. I told him it was OK to go because I knew how much he loved me. And I would read a scrap piece of paper. "I love the way that you are so strong and independent but at the same time let me take care of you." I read all 48 of them and after so many I would reassure him it was, "I'll be OK, for you have given me this gift that cost nothing, yet has such value to me. If I ever doubt your love for me, I can go to my cookie jar. If I ever miss you beyond words, I can go to my cookie jar, for I will always know inside my heart, how very much you loved me." It's OK to let go, I know that I am loved and when the day comes that I join you, we will start our married life then. The room was in tears and as I turned, I saw his former wife standing at the door of our bedroom. I guess I should have been mad, but I felt sorry for her. She had to have felt something as I read those private messages off sharing his love for me and wondering what happened to them. Maybe she didn't, but I know I would have.
Within minutes, Bill passed over to the other side. I had just asked every one to leave so that I could give him some pain medication. Perhaps that is what he was waiting for, that moment in time, when he could pass and not have his family witness it. It was so quick and as I heard him, I turned and rushed to his side, raising him into my arms to help him breath. I will never forget the look in his eyes nor the feeling of his spirit leaving his body. I yelled for Anita, but he was gone. It was 11:21, February 10, 2005. I knew I had to note the time, as it would be important for me to remember. May you rest in peace, William John Klebusch.