The tears come and go, and sometimes, overwhelming waves of crying and sobbing fill me with a total lack of understanding and loss. Often, I am my usual self, except slightly flat in my voice and robotic in my motions and thinking. My language is slow, and I pick the wrong names or words, but now I feel no embarrassment. I wheeze and feel tired, and my legs threaten to cramp. I am dizzy and stagger–but not enough to be at risk for a fall. Moving to the next moment is hard, but not impossible–but nearly impossible. Life is lived in moments, and hours are long.
I remember the decision to marry Susie. I was reading about the early life of Richard Feynman, the physicist, in the book titled “What do you care what others think?” In the book, he recounts his early life; he married a woman who was ill and soon was hospitalized–he would visit her every day and tell her about his life. Often, he would say something about something that was going wrong, and she would say, “What do you care what others think?” It is his motto now. His wife soon passed away, and he was clear in the book that even with the short time together and the grief, it was worth it. It convinced me in the 1980s, I was already leaning that way, that I could make this work with Susie. It was worth being with Susie for thirty-three years, married, and about six years before that. Yes, it was worth it.
Susie passed away in her sleep before 5 on the 13th of October, resting in her bed next to me in a recliner, also trying to get some sleep. I woke to see her pale and not moving, and Jennifer, who appeared and is the weekday nursing aide and part of the live-in family, explained to me that Susie had passed away and was at peace. There were tears and pain as the event I knew would come had arrived, and still, it was hard to understand that Susie was no longer there. That she would not turn to me, smile, and fall back to sleep. I knew what it meant that Susie passed, but I knew I would spend the rest of my life trying to understand this moment.
I stayed with Susie’s body for some time; the clock moved slowly and fast. The staff at Allegiance prepared Susie for her exit while I ate the dinner they made me. Susie looked at peace now with a rose in her hand, one I brought a few days ago, her favorite black hat, and dressed in her Halloween shirt and pants. Susie held on to bunny, a small white bunny stuffed animal, the whole time, and that, too, went with her. The folks who took Susie on to the next phase asked what music to play when they traveled with Susie’s body, and I said The Moody Blues. The Cosmic Rocker embraced her on her trip.
I moved to Susie’s room and could feel her presence still, and I took some photos to remember the room. It has been our home for over a year–I want to remember it. I took down the butterfly kite and gave it to Louis, Jennifer’s husband and also a nursing aide, as I knew events would soon overwhelm me, and I needed to get that done. I had asked Jennifer a few days ago, and she said their son, Eli, would love it. Excellent.
I left the room as it was, except for the kite, which still seemed like home. I also wanted Anassa, the weekend nursing aide, to find it primarily unchanged, as she would miss Susie on her shift. As a famous person once wrote, there is a time for everything, and it is a time for peace, I think.
Remembering Friday, I spent the night in the recliner with a sheet, trying to sleep. Susie’s breathing was labored, and comfort drugs were provided. Anna was the night nursing aide, Jennifer’s daughter, and Jennifer came in at midnight to give Susie more meds. I had practically no sleep the night before, so this time, I slept.
At 8ish, Jennifer took over again, and the hospice nurse, Michelle, came by; we all agreed to increase the comfort drugs, including morphine. Susie was able to relax more. The social worker from the hospice came by for a short visit to give me a copy of the paperwork for my family leave. The clock spun fast, and soon, I was using the shower and dressing. I was more careful, and the shower head did not soak me in cold water this time, but I did have to mop up some water that ran into the hallway! Oops. I shaved with a cheap razor and brushed my teeth in Susie’s bathroom. Susie mainly looked asleep.
Barb and Leta called, and we had a short video call. Susie seemed to respond just a tiny bit to their voices. Lauren, a chaplain from the hospice company, visited and prayed with Susie. Susie seemed to fade after that, like she was waiting for this. Michelle Nixon, the owner of Allegiance, and her daughter came, as did Mariah. Mariah brought me a mint mocha and a snack. We had quite a crowd in Susie’s room. Michelle was commenting on how she wants her husband to be like me with tears, and I said, “You mean good-looking,” and that broke-the-ice and everyone was laughing hard. A Flintstone joke, I think, likely borrowed from Groucho Marx. Lunch was served, and soon, it was back to Susie and me.
I had poor sleep, stress had started accumulating, and I felt unwell. Jennifer told me to rest, and I got into the recliner and rested next to Susie. I had a few calls and then put the phone on quiet. I slept a bit; I told Susie, “You can go; it will be OK,” and soon Susie left us.
Events after that are a blur. My sister arrived at the house after midnight. I am not alone at the house.
Thank you for reading. Thanks, everyone, for being a part of these last years when so much was asked of so many. The sun rose this morning while I was writing this. I was not sure it would, but it did, and we will continue.
