My heroes

It’s Christmas time again. My second Christmas without my Joe. I started a new tradition last year and took holiday treats to all the nurses in the ICU where my husband spent his last days. Today the tradition continued.

As I stepped inside the hospital entrance and told the security guard where I was headed, he wrapped the tiny white visitor bracelet around my wrist, just like the one I wore for 12 days straight last September.

It was muscle memory walking down the hall, climbing into the elevator, hitting the fifth floor button. As I stepped off, I didn’t have to hesitate to remember which direction to go, the memories came flooding back along with all the smells, sights and sounds.

Many of the rooms were empty as I walked towards the rear nurses station. I was grateful for that. I hate for anyone to have to spend any time in ICU, but especially around the holidays. The room Joe was in, 5511, was dark and the curtains were drawn.

As I approached the desk, a young nurse looked up and smiled, asking if she could help. I told her I was just dropping treats off for everyone. She asked which patient I was with. I said that my husband had passed on last year, but I just wanted to say thank you to the amazing medical professionals that took care of him.

I know that many of them are no longer on that floor, and I know that we were just faces among so many that they’ve cared for since that day. But to me Keli, Michael, Danny, Paige and all of the others are truly angels on earth. I think about them often, and hope that life is treating them well, hope that they are happy.

As I drove home, a familiar song came on: Morgan Wallen’s “Cover Me Up”. I smiled as I sang along.

I played Joe‘s music for him every day in that hospital. And ironically every time nurse Keli would step into the room that song would be playing. One day she finally said “wow he must really love Morgan Wallen” and we laughed about it. The nurses Joe had allowed me to tell them all about him. They listened as I talked about his love of barbecue, his obsession with old cars, his crazy sense of humor, and his beautiful spirit. They held me up, they cried with me, and they were with us to the very end.

As I walked away, I briefly laid my hand across the room number on the wall where Joe had been. It gives me such peace to be in the last place he was alive. It gives me even more peace, knowing that those amazing people wake up every morning and choose to care for the sickest of the sick. They will forever be my heroes.