The first face of death was coming upon Rich on the floor, quiet, still and semi cold.
Head off to the side his eyes focused up towards the ceiling, and his mouth open.
The second face of death was seeing him laying on the gurney as the emergency personnel wheeled
up to ICU.
The third face of death was briefly seeing Rich in ICU hooked up to many machines with tubes and wires.
Listening to his breathing and the steady beep of his heart from the machine.
The four face of death is waiting for the news, praying, hoping, coping and denying. The sight of Rich laying
there non responsive to my touch or to my voice. His skin warm, his skin flushed with renewed "life".
The fifth face of death is the news… the news that you knew deep down that was coming but didn’t want to
hear or want to believe. News that forever changed your world and the world of others… a second, a heartbeat was all it was.
Screaming, "I hate you God" at the top of your lungs. Crying in despair, crying and screaming in anger at the injustice
of it all.
The six face of death is laying beside him in the hospital bed after the "news", crying and knowing my time was near
to somehow let him go. I laid on my side and gazed down upon him. Caressed his face, his hair, his lips and chin. Knowing
that I will not be able to do this ever again. I gazed upon him as he laid there "dead" but alive knowing that he on the physical level he could not hear, see, feel me. I knew somehow he heard me, and saw me and felt my pain and the pain and sorrow of others from his spiritual vantage point.
The seventh face of death is walking into a semi dark ICU room to view Rich after the surgery that gave four people their lives
back. He laid there, he looked amazingly peaceful though his mouth was open, he looked almost happy in death. The time…11:40 a.m. June 18, 2008. My dad and I were in that room, I cried. I do not remember anything else except how he looked.
The eighth face of death is taking your son to the funeral home the day before the wake. To see the one you love in all the world
laying in a coffin wearing his suit that he wore on our wedding day will stay with me forever. I placed our wedding picture in the front pocket of his white shirt on top of his heart. I bought a John Deere tractor and it rested on his chest and I placed a picture of Christopher in his hands.
The ninth face of death is walking down the isle behind your husbands casket with your parents on either side of you. Your little boy unknowingly and blissfully unaware of what is transpiring that day. Listening to those who knew him and loved him recall
their fond memories of him. Standing before those who came to pay their respects to briefly recall our five years of love and life together.
The tenth face of death is driving behind the hearse as we drove through the Peterborough Liftlocks, I asked our driver to blow
the horn in Rich’s honour. Driving through the cemetery gates knowing this was the final thing, the final time. He will we covered
in dirt, buried out there all alone. Winter is coming…cold and bare.
The eleventh face of death is living! Living knowing that you want to crawl in beside him. Living and going on without the one
person whom you loved, trusted, leaned on gave everything too! Living should be the greatest gift, something to cherish and respect. I don’t feel any of that. I am numb.