I told Peg this morning I was afraid I'd be away from the house when she passed. I'd be on the bike trail, or at the store...and I'd get "the call."
We talked over tears, coffee and mango juice about how all our experiences together, and our love for each other, is 26 years in the making. It doesn't matter if I'm at Peg's side when she spreads her wings. We know how we feel about each other and Zoë. We've shared a wonderful life together. Zoë and I will carry that love and those experiences and memories as long as we're alive. There is nothing we could say at the end that would add to what we already hold in our hearts.
Peg said it might be harder to let go if I'm here, because of the deep bond between us. And death isn't necessarily like in the movies. She may be semi-conscious or deeply unconscious, and unable to take in whatever I'm trying to convey anyway.
Our family doc--who may be the last physician in America to actually do this--made a house call today. Ironically, not with the intention of curing the patient. We love this guy. Strong advocate for Peg's wishes, on board for making sure the glide path is comfortable, peaceful and fulfilling.
As Dr. Patella was leaving, I stopped him in the beautiful spring sunshine to ask how long he thought Peg had before her body gave out. He said she was in remarkably stable condition, but that her bone marrow wasn't producing enough red blood cells and she wasn't taking in much protein. But she's stable. So there's really no way to tell. And there's the wild card of an infection or other complication that could bring the process to a close in just two or three days.
I feel more at peace after Peg and I talked this morning. Yes, I will be profoundly sad that she'll miss our daughter's 17th birthday, and all that's to come after. But I also know now that she and Zoë and I have a deep bond that will last our lifetimes. The number of weeks, or days, or hours left to the three of us as a family are far less important than the years of caring and love that preceded them.
My favorite moment of the day: seeing Zoë climbing into the hospital bed with Peg and hanging out with her. Reminded me of when she was an infant and we had her between us. She managed, even being swaddled, to wiggle over to be as close to Peg as possible. Some things never change.
2 comments:
What can anyone say except that you are all remarkable individuals and a family. I can't imagine anyone going through what you are going through with more love, grace, dignity. I
am learning a great deal from afar hearing about it and appreciate you letting me in this way. I of course wish you all the most peaceful time possible. The love is so clearly there. My love to you all.
Susan
Your connection, love, openness, and humor have always inspired me.
I too am lucky to have memories and love from Peg that will last a lifetime. I will hold her in my heart forever.
Much love,
Marge
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