Less than a month ago, my fiancée, best friend and love of my life died in my arms. He had Hep. C and had already had 2 liver transplants 5 months ago -- in an attempt to save him. He was 37 years old -- I'm 23.

In those 5 months I saw the man I love waste away to nothing . . . and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I honestly believed my love for him could save his life, but I was wrong.

I never left his side. When he was in the ICU I would sleep out in the waiting room. I didn't sleep in a bed in those 5 months, always on the floor, on my little mat and pillow. At 6am I would wake up and go to his room and help care for him and just spend time with him, then at 10pm I would collapse in my little camp and start over again.

We didn't know what the outcome would be until the last week. He had contracted chickenpox from being so immunosuppressed and then they spread to his lungs and brain. Making him unconscious. His Hep. C had become rampant, viral count in the millions. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but they knew another transplant wouldn't help him.

I've never seen someone die before. Never seen their last breath or felt their last heartbeat . . . or seen those unresponsive pupils, when exposed to light. But I was with him in those last moments. I was determined he wouldn't die alone, or without me by his side. But when he passed . . . when I felt his last heartbeat . . . I literally . . . LITERALLY felt half of my soul ripped away.

He was my soul mate, my other half, my true love. I loved him unconditionally and tried everything to save him. Pleading, and begging with the doctors to do something-anything. I prayed . . . something I never do. I begged God to save him . . . . but our prayers went unanswered.

Now all I have of him are mementos of his that only cause me pain. On my desk, I can see a poem he wrote me . . . declaring his love for me. I can also see the pamphlet from his funeral, two tickets to the last movie we went together, and pictures of him on his last vacation. A little token I had bought him in the hospital gift shop, with “I [heart] U!” written on it with red ink . . . and . . . a list of songs him and I worked on that we felt represented our relationship.

Truthfully, I don’t want to live anymore. I stayed by his side, unwavering . . . and now he has gone somewhere I can’t follow. He was the one thing in my life worth living for and now that he is gone, I have nothing to look forward to. I know I will never love again, because I don’t want to, I choose not to. I guess I am too loyal . . . in all of the relationships I’ve been in, his arms felt right around me. He was my match, and my soul mate.

Would I commit suicide? . . . no, I don’t think so. Because I don’t know what the consequences are. Perhaps there is a sort of punishment for suicide, where you are sent to a ‘hell’ or are just reborn. The fact of the matter is, I don’t know the answer and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my chances of ever being with him again. But I beg and pray that the fates, gods or anything shows me my purpose in life so I can get it the hell done with and be with him again.

Our friends tell me I have a gift. What that gift is, I don’t know. They say it’s my ability to sense death/dying, comfort the ill and to show them love. I can only hope my purpose isn’t to be a caregiver to the terminally ill. I can’t go through another death – family, friend or otherwise.

My nightmares are horrendous. More like night terrors. The depression hits me the worst just when I go to bed. I usually spend two hours lying in bed bawling like a child and clawing at my head/face trying to get the disturbing images of his last months out of my head. Him crying, telling me he was scared . . . my feeling of total helplessness. I would stroke his hair, only to have large patches of it come out in my hand. I would look upon his skeletal face – he lost about 40 lbs. since coming to the hospital. His gaping wounds and sores -- all I could do was hold him and tell him I loved him . . . those were the last words he heard . . . how much I loved him.

I don’t ask why . . . I learned not to ask that question along time ago. I only ask for my time to come soon. I’m more than ready . . .

Why I am posting this is beyond me . . . perhaps this is my purpose . . . to tell a little of my story, to help others out there.

dear girlfriend,
there are no words to take your sadness away. there are no word so i will not try to find any. i want simply to say that your life, your purpose are why you must continue. for yourself and for him. for the memory of love you must continue. i help people with dying and i help families adjust. mostly i listen. your purpose is frightening now. it will not always be so. your dreams will change. you will come to dream of the days of sunshine and love you shared. they are visits. let yourself love those dreams. do not go to the place of agony upon waking, instead drift on the memory of your visit.
peace,
bluelakelady

My heart goes out to you. I lost my mom to cancer last year. She was still so young. She was in such horrendous pain. I'd sit by her side and feel death in the room. Right after Mother's Day, she had a stroke, because of her liver being compromised by the cancer spreading there. As a result, she couldn't talk anymore. The last few months, while she suffered in agony, she couldn't even voice her feelings to us. Just today, I was crying uncontrollably. Like you, I've also had those recurring nightmares. Please know that you are not alone. This board has helped me feel less isolated.

What a tragic story. I am so sorry to hear about your situation, and I wish there was something I could do. You make my problems melt away, because in comparison, they are absolutely nothing. I know it may be inappropriate, but thank you for that (I'm having a hard night where I feel like my life is coming down around my ankles). I will pray for you, and I hope that I never feel the pain I know that you are going through. God Bless you.

My heartfelt condolences on your loss, I have no need to render my own story you could have been writing my story for me, my beloved husband died two years ago this August 16th and I miss him more today than I did then. He was my soulmate and like you I stayed by his side in icu after a massive upper g.I bleed and watched his life slip away,only to wish that we were going on this journey together like we had done so many times before. I still feel guilty today about enjoying myself although I know he would be beside himself with remorse if he knew how much I was crying and wishing I was with him. He, like your partner would want us to carry on living our lives and rebuilding them, I havn't gotten to that stage yet, and at this point in time I don't know when I will, and like you, the memories I have no-one can ever take away just keep them, and him close to your heart and move along at your own pace, it's really all you can do,you will be in my thoughts. Trisha

I lost my dad on 7/5/05. I still have these horrible dreams of him in intense pain as he was those last 3 months. I carry guilt for not being able to get him what he needed to take away this pain. I made him promises that he would get relief. When I called in Hospice I was sure they would help, it did not. I still see his face and hear his voice telling me to kill him. The other night I woke myself crying out loud because I dreamed it was the funeral and when I tried to get close to him the casket would get moved. I could never get near him. This I guessed was because I thought we would have one last moment with him at the funeral before they took him to the cemetary. We did not. I know that dad is in Heaven and does not suffer in pain. For this I prayed many many prayers during his ordeal. Yet, I hurt so about the things I promised for him but did not deliver. My visions of him are of a man that weighed less than 100 lbs covered in bedsores, thrush, emaciated and in great pain. I don't know if I will ever get past these.