And I did. And it was very, very good. We held hands, spoke words of love and forgiveness, and one day took a nap together in the hospital bed, cuddled together, and he managed to squeak out one word, "Nice."
Three days after I arrived he began to transition out of this life. I've seen this often enough to know what it is, and the hospice nurse confirmed it. His daughter put a play list of his favorite music on his iPhone and we let it run continuously. Sometimes, lying there, seemingly 'out of it,' he would raise a hand into the air to conduct the orchestra, which is something he always did. I found this rather embarrassing when we were at a concert because he would wave both hands rather vigorously and people around us would glance over to see what all the commotion was about!
After a long week with him, his second daughter arrived from the east coast. On Friday afternoon I left the daughters to be with him. I went to lunch with local friends, and in the afternoon my dear friends from the Napa Valley drove over to be with me. We ate dinner at our favorite watering hole, I drank a Manhattan in honor of Steve (his favorite cocktail) and we reminisced all through dinner. Afterward we repaired to their hotel where I spent the night with them.
The phone rang at 5:00 in the morning. I knew what that meant.
Now I am home. There is so much to process. The enormity of all that happened last week sneaks up on me and I am utterly reduced to a bottomless pit of sadness. Sometimes I can't even believe what has transpired.
For now, dear reader, I will share some fun pictures that remind me that Steve and I lived a wonderful life for a very short time, and that we laughed our assess off. Frequently. Loudly. As it should be.
I love looking at these photos of you and Steve in these utterly happy smiling times of life. It was a brief and wonderful time the two of you had together, exploring the world and remembering love. Steve's decline was so rapid, I get whiplash just thinking about it. He will be dearly missed and always loved.
ReplyDeletethank you, Robin. Whiplash, yes. Can't quite grasp it all at the moment. And thank you for being there for me, as always.
DeleteSending love, Tara. So much for you to absorb over these recent months. As dying people sometimes do so astonishingly, it seems that despite his precipitous decline, Steve held on to life until he was able to say goodbye to you in the most loving way possible and give you the opportunity to do the same. What Love has given to us, no one can take away. The portraits of you and Steve show the happiness shared in your time together. Thank you for posting them.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words. I do believe their was some great luck (or plan) for us to say goodbye to one another and heal our wounds. We had some amazingly intimate moments of true sharing over the last week. And then, when words and consciousness failed him, he still reached out for me from his bed. So many tender mercies.
Deletethe pictures are great. lots of laughs. nice to see him that way. we are raising our glasses to steve again tonight.
ReplyDeleteoh, I can just imagine you raising your glasses to him tonight. What a life he led.
DeleteYou certainly have been through a whirlwind lately. How wonderful that you could be there for Steve. I know you brought hime some relief during his last hours on this side. And likewise I'm sure you found some closure as you reflected on the happy days you had together.
ReplyDeleteyes, forgiveness and closure. so very glad I went. yes, what a year it has been. I think about you, and hope you are doing well.
DeleteBeing a vampire is not what it seems like. It’s a life full of good, and amazing things. We are as human as you are.. It’s not what you are that counts, but how you choose to be. Do you want a life full of interesting things? Do you want to have power and influence over others? To be charming and desirable? To have wealth, health, and longevity? contact the vampires creed today via email: Richvampirekindom@gmail.com
ReplyDelete