Father's Day 2020

I awoke, let the dogs out, fed them, made coffee, checked on Jim about 3 times, and then wrote a note and signed his Father's Day card. Then I cried—or perhaps more realistically, I cried the whole time.

Yesterday Tegan spent the day with us. She has always celebrated what Jim and she call "Step Father's Day" around the official day so that she can celebrate both of her dads. Last year they went zip lining. This year Jim mostly slept and I was so tired that I barely held on. Tegan brought Chinese food, as wonton soup is one of the few things Jim is eating these days. The other things he will eat are Panera's tomato bisque and occasionally their mac and cheese. The big winner has been certain types of popsicles as his mouth gets so dry and he becomes so dehydrated no matter the amount of liquids he consumes.

Today we FaceTimed with Jim's son Pat and his lovely family: wonderful partner Emily and apple of our eyes granddaughter Satori. Jim is so proud of Pat as a father and I agree. I made certain that no other visits or calls were planned so that he had energy to "visit" with them. Soon, in about a week and a half, a new grand baby will be born and Jim really wants to be here for that birth. These days I think he just might make it—or perhaps their souls will pass each other entering and leaving here and now.

Surprising us, Jim's eldest Peter called from the Dominican Republic where he has been stranded for the last three months with his fiancé. Jim was able to tell Peter that he loved him.

Jim and I watched a movie with Goldie Hawn, Steve Martin, and John Cleese. In many ways dated but light entertainment. Jim lay on the couch with his feet in my lap. And through the whole movie I kept thinking about the premise of a long married couple now free to create their second act—and how this is Jim and my second act. Cancer and caregiving.

I calm our dog Charlie who is very freaked by loosing his Jim, while Bella and Addie, both mothers of pups, seem to have deeper wisdom and cuddle with Jim.

Caregiving is a 24/7 job, and I don't mind that as much as I do the eventual outcome. Instead of watching my beloved get better, I am watching him slowly but surely die. Even this morning, the change I see is that in everything, even now to take a drink or to sit up or to get out of bed, he needs my help. Each moment breaks my heart into more and more minute fractures, fissures that will forever line my soul, and yet, I can not let him see that. He's told me many times that the thing that upsets him most about dying, is not dying, but leaving me to grieve. But I am and I will. So I put on my best hopeful face and I act quickly so that he does not see all the work involved. I monitor his insistent fever, hold him tight, and give him drugs to calm the rigor when it rattles through his entire body until it seems the world will stop. Launder the sheets and clothes soaked through with sweat. The laundry runs non-stop and food fills the compost pile. But these are the only real things I can do for my love—stay by his side, give him comfort, reassure him that I will not leave him, provide a tender touch, a gentle massage, a kiss, a smile, water, a lozenge, and a promise of love forever.

Not really a Postscript:

One really beautiful thing that I am so grateful for is how folks have gathered round to share their love during this time—not only a time when Jim is in his final days but also a time when we are all being constrained and impacted by Covid-19. Friends and family have included us in prayers, meditation, sage burning, animal spirit sighting, and weekly check-ins through texts, calls, messages, etc. They've visited with masks in place, delivered balloons, cards, a wonderful poster from the UVM nurses, food, brief garden tours, calls, interviews, organizational help, and most recently our dear friend Ray McCarthy-Bergeron unexpectedly flew in from San Francisco to photograph Jim for the Legacy Project. He also helped me with our camper. The photos below are all by Ray—they will calm my heart forever. Really my heart is bursting with the love that surrounds us and I am beyond grateful.

Thank you.