Author: Marlys Lawry Page 53 of 55

It’s been ten days of keeping appointments, running errands, checking things off to-do lists. Of welcoming SIL Josh and the grandkidlets into the mix after three-and-a-half weeks apart from their wife and mom. Of continued love pouring in via meals, cards and gifts, and people stopping by.

In the process of planning Hubby’s Celebration of Life, a song by Laura Story gave pause for reflection:

But what if your blessings come through rain drops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if a thousand sleepless nights

are what it takes to know You’re near

What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise.

desk7.net photo

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Grandson Titus, before arriving in Oregon, wanted to know if the Starbux Fairy would still be making deliveries. Actually, her name is Porch Fairy because she’s been quietly leaving gifts on our front porch for quite some time now. Flowers, bouquets of autumn leaves, fun toys for Hubby, thoughtful gifts, breakfast items. And daily, an Americano for Summer and a Chai for me. Daily deliveries in the snow and ice – against our counsel.

I e-mailed the Porch Fairy to let her know that SIL Josh and the grandkidlets were arriving and that it was time she took a much-deserved retirement. She e-mailed back to ask if she could make one more delivery. The grandkidlets were up early waiting for this event. Titus checked the porch at 7:29. Nothing. He put on his shoes, unplugged his iPod, and opened the front door a crack at 7:31. Six red cups.

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Daughter Summer and I actually accomplished a good deal from the couch on Tuesday in between the remembering and laughing and crying. We drew up to-do lists. A draft of Hubby’s Celebration of Life service. Lists of family coming with possible housing solutions. I’m actually a list addict. I’ve been known to complete something, and then add it to my list so I can check it off. Pathetic, right?

And then I came across this forgotten list tucked away in a hidden flap of my wallet. Written by Hubby a while back. Apparently I’m not the only list-maker in the family.

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The rule on this first full day as a widow: pajamas all day. Daughter Summer and I aren’t allowed off the couch except for coffee and tea breaks. And bathroom breaks. And food. And to answer the door. But no one will be allowed in unless they’re wearing pajamas. Although we might make a few exceptions.

Puffy eye gel – just what we’re needing at the moment

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My beloved friend and husband went home to heaven this evening at 6:30. Monday, November 17. One of my fears while at Hospice House was that I would be in the shower room, or making a cup of tea when Hubby took his last breath.

As it turned out, he waited until I was in the bathroom. I think it was his final prank. But it didn’t work, because Daughter Summer pounded on the door and I was at his side holding his hand when he went forever without taking a breath. And then he took a jagged breath. And then he went forever without taking a breath.

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It’s wintumn here in central Oregon, wintumn being that time of year when winter snow clings to autumn color.

Daughter Summer and I continue keeping Hubby company on this last phase of his cancer journey – listening to him breathe, massaging his feet with coconut oil, swabbing mouth and lips, reading out loud to him, stroking his forehead, the soothing background sound of football on TV.

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We’re back at Hospice House after breaking out for two weeks. And love keeps pouring in the front doors. Chai teas and Americano coffees. Dark chocolate and sweet breads.

And these groovy socks with the manufacturer’s tag: “Life’s too short to wear matching socks.”

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After the only working nephrostomy tube fell out Tuesday, we were told to expect renal failure. But yesterday morning, Hubby perked up. Perhaps because Son Jeremy and DIL Denise joined Daughter Summer here in sunny Bend.

Nurse Melinda says Hubby has tenacity. (I think that’s a nice way of saying he’s stubborn.)

He’s broken all the rules, she said. Maybe there’s still something he wants to teach us.

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I’ve been sitting in this favorite yellow child’s chair — a garage sale find — a good part of the day. To be near him. To catch every word he says. Hubby has let his filters down these past few days. He is childlike at times, in an endearing way. He scolds me, rolls his eyes, stalls when he doesn’t want to take his meds.

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In addition to Chai and assorted goodies, the Porch Fairy leaves flowers. This bouquet. At least a week old. And still pretty in shades of pink.

In return, I’ve left a couple items for the Porch Fairy.

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