#14, May 3, 2015, Open Windows

This is the next in a series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.

Slept late last night with open windows. This year’s first. Woke to a gentle breeze and birdsong. The chimes’ soft ringing. Have been waiting for this and it’s so beautiful

.

Dave is getting better, feeling a bit stronger. I don’t know how long it will last—it feels like a last gift and I’m going to try to enjoy it like one.

Went to the movies and early dinner with Bryan yesterday. Talking about short trips to Decorah and Davie’s. Also thinking that when the time comes, I will not be able to burn him, to cremate what is left of him. I just can’t.

image: flickr.com

#13, April 29, 2015, Dangerous Voyage

This is the next in the series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.

Not sure what miracles look like, but when we went to the doc yesterday and he told us that Dave has either stabilized or improved in every measured medical value and that he looked and felt better, and that the palliative care doc is really close to telling him not to come back until he gets sicker, well, it feels like a miracle.

Then read Paul’s story in my Bible: “Sirs, I perceive that in this voyage will be hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also of our lives...” and then the angel tells him that no one will lose his life on this voyage, and they don’t. 

Is this the dangerous voyage that we survive?

image: elliestudio.com

#12, April 22, 2015, Lesson from a Dead Cat

This is the next in a series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.

A ragged day yesterday.

Woke up at 4AM, and knew the cat was dead. Just knew. Buried him by 6, then got ready for the plumber by 8 to fix the water heater, then had to be off for the dentist by 12:30, with Dave weak and coughing all day. 

Glad he’s talking about getting a walker. He wants to live and I want him to. Silly how sorrow and loss and a dead cat of all things, to which I was only mildly connected, warned me about the depth of loss I would feel if I lost Dave. I see now that it will be awful and any attempted preparation will be useless. The only good use of my imagination now is not to try to get ready for what I think will happen.

I need to just live. Just live and praise God.

image: bytesdaily.blogspot.com

#11, April 20, 2015, What is Lacking

This is the next in the series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of  Dave's life.

Our minister wasn’t in church yesterday and in his absence, a young parishioner took the pulpit and preached about the Holy Spirit—His power, His accessibility. He urged us to not only believe, but to actively seek Him, who is our way to supernatural power. Then our ad hoc preacher summoned everyone to pray for Dave, not knowing that the only way to physically heal him is supernatural—that docs have already done everything they can. 

It was then—when he made the call—that I realized my own error. I have not believed in the Spirit’s power. I have not thought to ask for God in this other than to deal gently with Dave's inevitable decline. Even now, I can say the words, but the expectation of healing is not there. Lack of faith? Lack of love? Both, I think. And they make a sham of my physical care of him.

image: Bird's Eye View