Day so wanted to go to her Uncle David's funeral--mainly to support Carlene. We talked briefly about getting flights and going there, but Carlene discouraged our going. The following is part of a beautiful letter she wrote to Day (and shared with me) after telling us on the phone that he had only two questions for the hospice doctor: "What will it be like to die?" and "How long will it take?"
This experience with David has been blessed in many ways. We had a total of 23 hours at his side (minus one night of sleep) and it had to have been orchestrated by a power beyond us because every minute was spent wisely and his questions were answered so that he could just fall asleep when we left hospice for the hotel ... and he waited until we got back the next morning so we could be there when he went as peacefully as falling asleep.
...After the intensity, sadness, lucidity, love expressions, raw beauty of yesterday... with David's questions so tenderly, honestly and lovingly addressed by the professional palliative caregivers here at hospice, too soon WE will ask the question, "How was it?" And we won't be able to hear his answer."
Yesterday with five of us in the room, as his breathing became shallow, the nurse with her stethoscope listened again .. and soon said, "I think that is his last one!" ...my first thought was that I held him so soon after his first breath 3-9-36 and now felt his life here close like a parenthesis!
But he carried no weight. He, the eternal collector, when asked, " What about your furniture?" smiled and said, "That doesn't matter any more..."
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