So close...Yet so far

It was one of those evenings; wonderful nights when I get to see my dearest sister sitting comfortably at the table in our air-conditioned bedroom, doing nothing. Instead of the vintage rock that she had been listening to these couple of days, gentle classical music filled the room. She looked a bit tired, distracted, and there seemed to be a tinge of sadness that was lingering in the room.

We chatted briefly for a while before I wandered off to wash up. A couple of minutes later, I returned to the room.

So have you sign the appointment letter already?

They are preparing. I met Dr X today.

How is he?

I asked how his wife died and...

Why did you ask him such question?

I sensed he wanted to talk about it so I asked and...

My sister started to relate her doctor's story. Dr X's wife died of cancer a couple of months ago and he was totally devastated. He loved the wife to the core, and the irony of it all was that the wife always doubt his love. She never once believed Dr X loved her wholeheartedly; she constantly saw flaws in his love. It was not until her dreaded disease that she finally saw light in his love.

He cared for her constantly, ever since the discovery of her disease. A couple of months into the battle with the disease, they seemed to have won the war. He took her to Egypt and they climbed Mount Sinai; watching the magnificient sun setting into the west.

They had seven months of happiness before the disease struck back in full force.

Dr X finally told the wife that he needed someone to help him to look after her. He would not leave her but he needed help to ensure she was properly taken care of; she agreed. As they talked, she complained of thirst and he went to get her a glass of water. Once she drunk it, she started to throw up blood. She threw up seven packets of blood before the ambulance arrived. On the way to the hospice, each time the ambulance jerked she threw up more blood. When she finally reached the hospice, she was a ghost of herself.

The children were called back from school. She waited patiently for their return; she had wanted to see them before she drew her last breath. Again, she felt the thirst; she asked for water. Now she could not even open her eyes; she was conserving her energy for her children. The nurse brought some ice for her instead and Dr X started to feed her. She was not aware the feeder was her husband.

Can you please get my husband to feed me instead? I want him nearby.

With that, she returned to her silence; saving her energy. As she went back into her own world, she felt a warm hand tightening around her fragile hand.

Dear, I AM feeding you. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.

Dr X felt his wife's hand tightening around his. As she took in more ice, once again, she threw up. More blood. She was gasping for breath; Dr X could not do anything; but to listen to his wife laboured breathing. She did not manage to see her offsprings.

He said he sensed her the other day while reading a book that she had always wanted him to read.

In what way? He saw her spirit?

No, he smelled her. It was only a second but he was certain that she was there.

Was he scared?

No. He said he felt peaceful. Before that, all he could remember of her was her gasping for breath; her last moments and her struggle to breathe. He could not even remember anything about her, nothing about their days together; there was only memory of her laboured breathing. But this incident helps him to come to term that she is somewhere else, watching over him and not suffering anymore.

According to statistic, a male lives for an average of 82 years and a female, 85 years. Of that, one third of our life is devoted to sleeping, one third to working and there is only about 28 years of our lifetime to be shared among our friends, spouse, children and family. It is not uncommon to find love not treasured, loved ones being taken for granted. That is not the saddest part of all; the most tragic is that something devastating must always happen in order for the realisation to hit. If love is always so close, yet so far for you, do something about it today; so that in the years to come, regret is not something that would tumble out of your closet of memory.