Coming to the end...

Forever to many is only a word. To those that have lost someone precious, it is a timeline. How long will you mourn? How long is not long enough? How long is too long? IS there a time frame for a loss so huge?
My story continues from when we began living our lives separate and yet together as always. Sheila and my daughter lived in an apartment and I was there at 7 a.m. every day. I stayed with Sheila until 10 at night and then drove to my own home.I loved her so much and yet the need to be alone was strong by now. Even to have people in my house for longer than a few hours was an invitation to an anxiety attack, full blown. Sheila remained my "safe place" and so to spend entire days and evenings were not a problem. Somewhere in my dis-connected mind, I knew I would be going home to "alone" and that made it all good. We lived our days and evenings as we had always and she continued to teach me something daily.
After 2 years, we had become settled in how our life was. Sheila knew that it was possible we would never be as we had once been. My mind issues alone would assure us of that. Committing the "horrible sin" I continued to run through relationship after relationship. Nothing lasted and if it appeared it might, I dropped them and never looked back. In my mind, to be "faithful" to anyone would somehow make what I had done far worse. It would destroy my promise that I loved Sheila always. I could never allow this and so relationships were fleeting moments. Many asked to stay but they came to me KNOWING that Sheila was my love and that I did not have that kind of love to give to anyone else. Not the will nor the desire.
Finding it hard to focus on one thing, I would at times try to tackle several thoughts as one. It always ended up in a total disaster, followed by a LOW that left me wishing I had died with the last Pulmonary Embolism. Had I, Sheila would have never know the sorrow I gave to her. We would have ended our time together as one. The Lows were worse and gained more strength as time went on. We tried to work with them and made it through most without damage. Sheila continued to love me and give to me strength that I could not find with in myself or by my self. In 2004, Sheila had to have her Gall Bladder removed. Doctor after doctor refused to do the surgery. One finally said yes and the operation was done. During recovery, Sheila aspirated. Her lungs were severely burned and to save her life, she was put into a coma. I moved into a room outside of the CCU and remained there for the 60 days she was sleeping. I sang to her and read to her and watched over her. She was given a 5% chance of survival.She nearly died 3 times during this sleep but was as always, strong enough to win another battle. She would never regain the use of her legs again. After 83 days, Sheila came home. We found a duplex and moved there. We had what I needed finally.We had an intercom system so that while i wrote my novels I could still hear anything I needed to. If Sheila needed me I was a door away. It was still enough "Alone" that I could maintain and avoid to many anxiety attacks. We lived this way for another year and a half and my love for her was stronger than ever. The idea of finding a way to be with her was something that I wanted. I hated myself for the way my mind worked. I hated the effects of the Bipolar and the control it had on me.
Sheila became ill again and on the 6th of January 2006, Sheila went back into the hospital with Pneumonia. She became worse and was moved to CCU. A coma was induced again as the Only way to save her life. A Trache was put back in where the one from her first coma had been placed. I was told that she would have the Trache for the rest of her life. She was awakened after 31 days and sent to Rehab. She did not respond to treatment well and I was told she would be there for many months. I stayed with her as much as I could but also had my daughter to help when I could. The drive to Sheila was 115 miles and there were days that I drive it 3 times a day, depending on her condition. Arriving at 8 in the morning, driving home to shower and going back was a normal day. Sometimes a third trip would be needed if she took a turn for the worst. Driving back at 2 or 3 a.m., sometimes barely remembering the drive, often left me extremely tired. The exhaustion was an opening for the Lows to come over me. It was taking it's toll on me though I refused to not be there. I was the one that she trusted to lift her and move her and I wanted to "dance" with her every chance I got. Months went by and Doctors told me that going home was not in her future. Many questions needed answered and I had to learn to clean her Trache daily, in case she DID come home. Our time now, here on Earth together was shorter than I could have ever known. Would I have done anything different if I had only known?
More tomorrow if you will stay with me that long. This write is harder than I thought it would be but it is a story I WANT to tell. Please be forgiving if it is not what you came to read. Always, Darrel