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| Chocolate IceCream for Brekky, because we can! |
Meanwhile I was off to work at a church. Not just any church, mind you. A church filled with Believers, including a family I met when I was 8 years old. A family who's chance meeting led to my career as an ASL interpreter; a family who's faith inspired me deeply and wholly through my life. A family who asked me how I was and anticipated an honest answer. So I gave them one: I am done, spent, empty. I cannot carry this burden one more day. So we prayed, the whole of the congregation prayed my honesttogod prayer with me: Let it end. Soon.
I now believe Mitch might've been praying the same prayer. When I arrived home and set about his care, his headache was a reported 15 on a 1-10 scale. I began the Instant + Long Morphine + Marijuana Cycle to bring down his number. Nothing worked. I turned to light the vigil candle before the VirginMotherofGod and when I turned back 'round, Mitch's mood had shifted. "She scares me," he said again; apparently she'd been scaring him for a few days now. I wondered if she was hovering near, waiting to deliver him to the other side. I comforted him with some soothing words of her kindness and grace, of her gifts of faith and love. He seemed to buy it and fell asleep.
When the chance came for a quick escape, even for an hour, I took it! Mitch and the kids were looked after by family & my brain needed respite for what was to come next...
I heard him when I walked into the room. My brain told the rest of my body before I could cognitively puzzle the pieces & I flew into action. The Death Rattle(tm), The Official Sound of Death Itself. Right there in our bed, our whole family's bed, just like we'd talked about. Like we'd so desperately tried to deny. Death was a'knockin' and I had to decide Hostess Protocol. Aunt Donna appeared (she's really so very good at that) and set to work right away. The hospice nurse was called and the bed cleaned and changed. I brought out the tub for bathing, filled with warm, Satsuma scented water and a cotton washcloth, like I'd promised.
And I wanted to break, so desperately.
Humans don't break, though, even when they're willing.
I was snapped back with "If you don't do this here, they'll do it at the hospital"
Again, I was giving care, Ultimate Care to the man I promised to love, honor and cherish for all the days of his life. I wasn't gonna run screaming on my very last chance to do just that. (I wanted to though, I really did)
Calls were made, people streamed in and out, the children were lightheartedly entertained, laughter was heard and vigil was held.
When his last breath had once again been foiled by my arrival in the room, I snuggled with him in our bed, this one last time. I sent for the priest & asked for the children to go along for the ride. When the door closed behind them, I bent down and whispered his sweetest permission to Run Forrest, Run.
And run he did, right that very moment, to whatever was waiting for him not-here ♥
I sang to him because it felt good.
I heard him when I walked into the room. My brain told the rest of my body before I could cognitively puzzle the pieces & I flew into action. The Death Rattle(tm), The Official Sound of Death Itself. Right there in our bed, our whole family's bed, just like we'd talked about. Like we'd so desperately tried to deny. Death was a'knockin' and I had to decide Hostess Protocol. Aunt Donna appeared (she's really so very good at that) and set to work right away. The hospice nurse was called and the bed cleaned and changed. I brought out the tub for bathing, filled with warm, Satsuma scented water and a cotton washcloth, like I'd promised.
And I wanted to break, so desperately.
Humans don't break, though, even when they're willing.
I was snapped back with "If you don't do this here, they'll do it at the hospital"
Again, I was giving care, Ultimate Care to the man I promised to love, honor and cherish for all the days of his life. I wasn't gonna run screaming on my very last chance to do just that. (I wanted to though, I really did)
Calls were made, people streamed in and out, the children were lightheartedly entertained, laughter was heard and vigil was held.
When his last breath had once again been foiled by my arrival in the room, I snuggled with him in our bed, this one last time. I sent for the priest & asked for the children to go along for the ride. When the door closed behind them, I bent down and whispered his sweetest permission to Run Forrest, Run.
And run he did, right that very moment, to whatever was waiting for him not-here ♥
I sang to him because it felt good.
 |
| Pedro meets Mitch, Mitch meets Pedro |
Missing him today as much as I knew I would on the day I promised. ♥
6 comments:
You are one of the most beautiful human beings that I know, Diana. Not just because you lived this so bravely but genuinely, but also because you share it just as bravely and genuinely. I feel so blessed by your honesty, and how I see you constantly striving to be open to the world. (Both with what comes in to you from the world and what you give back out to it.)
I was having a really vulnerable day and this post should have shattered me, instead I feel uplifted by it and by you. Love you.
I sang to my dad as he assed as well .. It just felt right .. Thanks for the tear drops my heart needed them
Thanks Kelly! Writing this had a very similar (yet snotfilled) affect on me :)
I'm done feeling bad for feeling bad. Some things feel bad. Some things feel good. They don't necessarily take away or add to one another, just like The Doctor oh! so wisely says. And they're often laying there, side by side in all our lives. We deserve our full perspective <3
(oooh, where did THAT wisdom come from.... writing that down elsewhere... ::::vbg::::)
I've heard that tears are to the soul what sweat is to the body: required release!
These are powerful moments, these. I have been with loved ones as they transitioned. such an honor to be present, quietly present. The moment my mom died, the sky, which had been gray and cloudy, opened up and was absolutely golden. Powerful moments of the heart and spirit, these. ☯
I want to tell you what this means to me, having also held a man I loved while he died, then watching Elijah, so very brand-new, die in Jim's arms....
But maybe it's better to tell you a thing Annalise said to me the other day. She, born just less than a year after Elijah, has known always that if her brother had lived she as she is would never have been conceived....
We were talking, and, as he sometimes does, Elijah came up - to her, that mysterious older yet perpetually baby brother she's never met.
"It's like Elijah gave me a gift, Mommy. The gift of his place in this family."
I love that she sees it that way, and invites us to do so, too. =)
I don't know you and your family, but came upon your blog through a mutual friend. Your writing is beautiful, and comforting and scary and lovely - all at once. My heart goes out to you and your family. I'll be reading, and thinking of you.
Lori in Stockbridge, Georgia
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