A Bed of Roses
Two years before your illness, you bought a grand bed for us. It was the expensive kind with a tilt mechanism, massager, WiFi enabled, and a mattress that you boasted only kings and queens will choose to lie on. You said that we scrimped and saved for many years we deserved to sleep well. I went along with it even though I never paid much attention to the kind of bed we sleep on. For three months I could not sleep in it because it just felt different; but to you it was like a bed of roses. That was enough to make me happy.
When you were ill, you could no longer sleep on this bed because even with the tilt mechanism to enable you to get in and out of bed readily, the mattress became unbearable to you. Your back, spine, pelvis, and ribs were riddled with cancer. You could not tolerate the slightest pressure so you slept in the recliner sofa most of the time. It broke my heart to see you in so much pain that the bed designed for kings and queens could not give you the rest and sleep that you needed.
It’s been two months since you passed away and I could not sleep in this grand bed. I chose to sleep in the living room where you stayed for the months when you were ill. It is comforting to me because you left your energy in that room. I still feel your presence and often wake up imagining that you were sitting in the chair where the recliner sofa used to be. I remembered the struggle you went through and how I would sleep on the floor to be there for you during your illness. I didn’t care much to sleep in a grand bed. Even the cold, hard, wooden floor would have been enough if it meant being near you. I truly love you.
When you were ill, you could no longer sleep on this bed because even with the tilt mechanism to enable you to get in and out of bed readily, the mattress became unbearable to you. Your back, spine, pelvis, and ribs were riddled with cancer. You could not tolerate the slightest pressure so you slept in the recliner sofa most of the time. It broke my heart to see you in so much pain that the bed designed for kings and queens could not give you the rest and sleep that you needed.
It’s been two months since you passed away and I could not sleep in this grand bed. I chose to sleep in the living room where you stayed for the months when you were ill. It is comforting to me because you left your energy in that room. I still feel your presence and often wake up imagining that you were sitting in the chair where the recliner sofa used to be. I remembered the struggle you went through and how I would sleep on the floor to be there for you during your illness. I didn’t care much to sleep in a grand bed. Even the cold, hard, wooden floor would have been enough if it meant being near you. I truly love you.