as the rose wilts: the last 365+ days of Kim
I started to write this post a long time ago (September 12, 2007 to be exact) and I never finished it. I move on per say but I never forgot. now, July 26th/27th, 2008 I feel the need to finish it. It’s been a long time since Kim passed on and a good deal has changed in my life and I have had to say good
bye to others in that time period, so it feels fitting to do the right thing and finally, fully say goodbye.
There will be more to this page later…
She got involved in alcohol and prescription drugs, and without getting in detail it ended up ruining her life and marriage. Kim as a championship runner was always thin but she became more then just thin, she was dangerously underweight and didn’t keep herself in good mental or physical health. In the days leading up to her fall she was in an accident that totaled her car. She was in the midst of trying to figure out how to get around and how she was getting to work and then a few days latter she fell.
When I heard Kim fell, I didn’t even think it was life threatening, I just figured she would have been pretty messed up, that’s all. My friend Matt Latchford was riding his bike and was hit by an SUV, he was really messed up mentally after the accident but today seems to be back to his full mental faculty (to be honest, I’ve never actually asked him about it… were not actually close but we know each other well) so the idea that she had such an incredible fall was more then I could handle. When Bruce, Kim’s boyfriend found her it looked like she had been shot in the head. He said the amount of blood lost was massive, more blood then he had ever seen.
After the fall every one took turns visiting Kim in the hospital. Everyone had their reasons: obligation, dedication, hope… I hope to believe that I was between the latter two. Bruce fit all of the descriptions, he was always there. I know some of my family members were not particularly fond of him but, rather then give up on her he was always there, playing music for her and reading to her. It just made me wish that Kim could have been cognitive of all the love and care he direct her way.
Kim never improved, and she was moved from the hospital to a treatment facility in PA where she still didn’t improve to finally a nursing home, seconds from the Christiana hospital where she still didn’t improve and so, that leads us to july, when the hospice nurses discuss with us the reality of removing the feeding tube.
The time between the moment the tube was removed and the day see finally went felt like forever. I have always been pro-choice (and still am), but it’s never easy to see someone you love slowly die. The human body does funny things when the brain no longer responds, it still reacts to motions and light and other elements but you still come to the same result… there’s no one home. I did it plenty of times, I know my aunt Carol did as well… you start to physically provoke the shell hoping the mind is somewhere inside, reeling to be let free. You yell, you scream, you knock things over all hoping for a response in relation, but it never comes. It took Kim a very long time to finally pass and even though it was expected it was easy. You almost think that she’s still with you, or that she’ll still be back at the nursing home in the bed. It’s not the same reaction as if your grand parent dies or someone old, she just didn’t seem ready. I still can’t look at the nursing home she died at, it just feels awkward… not sad or angry, just awkward.
The funeral was… as funerals tend to be. It wasn’t as dark of an event that I expected it to be. People were sad but we all refused to mention certain things. I got a lot out of hearing Kim’s running friend talk about her. It was a side of Kim I never knew but wished I had met. That kim was full of life, determination and drive. The next day we all decided to head up to the family plot, right outside of Uncasville, CT.
The day after we buried Kim, I bought my paid Flickr account. I wanted to share my images, I wanted to spread my thoughts, I needed them out. Life has changed, other people and loved ones have left me since the death of Kim, but it still left a impact in my life and a gap in my family that can never be replaced. All the same, I know that I refuse to let Kim’s story not be a sad one but one that inspires me to make good use of every opportunity that I have and constantly strive for a better life. I know like her life was, my life is fleeting and I refuse to lose out. I miss you aunt Kim.
