#SOL16: Approaching

Rob and His Son (2016)

I.

There are stages to death. And I suspect there are differences between what I read about these stages that are mostly based on the elderly passing from the earth and what happens when a younger person dies. Nonetheless, I can see the signs when I look at  Rob who is leaving this earth much too soon as he passes into the active stage of dying.

My body seems to recognize this finality and before when I turned to doctors and nurses to guide me to understand what was happening to Rob, oddly now I don't seem to need a guide.
My husband tells me he is leaving with each prolonged breath.
Each rough breath.

Now he sleeps most of the day and is harder to rouse. Even in the evenings when he is usually restless, he is sleeping more. He now has trouble swallowing and I use the bottom of a hypodermic needle to give him sips of water and use my finger to wet his lips. After just a few sips he refuses more. And before this day ends, he will refuse water.

II.

The times when he is more fully awake, he stares beyond me at something only he is seeing. His face is euphoric, beautiful, other-worldly.

#SOL16: Not Knowing

I.

I think I may have forgotten how to be in the world. Since Rob was moved to the Step-down unit and then to the Palliative Care unit and finally home, my life has become increasingly insular. Mostly, I take care of Rob. Tonight I lost it. I made dinner for my family and then tried to sleep. I wanted Rob. I wanted him to do what he has done for 30 years, offer just the right comfort. And there in our bedroom I realized that he was never going to be able to offer what he so freely gave me again.

On Valentine's Day, Rob and I had breakfast together. He was able to get out of bed and sit at a table. I brought bagels with cream cheese and Rob ate all of his and half of mine. He sent me an e-card and personalized as he always have done with a brief poem.

A week later, Rob would no longer be able to hold on to who I am by name.

Rob at Christmas with our dog, Max.

Rob and Devon in the pool.

II.

I have been looking through old photographs from when Devon was 6 months to a year. I look at the pictures of Rob and Devon and think about us at that time and how we could not imagine that Rob would be with us less than 17 years. How could that be?

I'm glad we didn't know. We lived so fully. Not knowing is so much more important that myriad of things we can say we know.