Good Morning,
You may have noticed there was no Monday Morning News from me last week.
i like to write authentically so i thought i'd share why...i assure you i am doing well and miss mitty is administering extra TLC : )
meditative monday,
amanda
p.s. these thoughts were written in an e-mail to a friend (hi Eva : ).
Passing It On
Two nights ago my "fishing buddy" bill transitioned or left us or died (however you want to say it). i had been in Vermont with friends when i got the call that it was pretty close. when i returned home on Monday, i went to see him and basically hung on every breath...i couldn't help but stare at what cancer had left of his body...so so thin, just bones and skin...
i went back Tuesday night and found my rhythm sitting there with bill. we watched "Wheel of Fortune" together and i talked to him like old times. i told him about the Vermonter who tried to drive his pickup truck across the frozen lake and uh didn't make it (all good fishermen know the difference between late February and March ice!) and my breakfast order at the local inn because i knew he would smile...my order never changes.
anyway, Wednesday night was different. i noticed the breathing again and how even over the course of a day it had become more irregular. more jagged and restricted to the upper chest. Bill's oldest son Billie was there. Billie is a medic (EMT) so i took him at his word when he said "it's real close...". i was real scared so my "brave" thing to do was to get up and leave!!! i waited awhile maybe 20 minutes passed before i stood to leave. knowing this would probably be the last time i would see Bill i went over to the bed and gently rubbed his wrist. i winced a little remembering the tiny IV needless that leave little purple bruises...then i moved up to the head of the bed and gently put my hand on his forehead. Bill no longer looks like Bill so gaunt, a goatee full of white whiskers, and only half a buzz haircut left on his head. i started to bend down to gently press my lips on his forehead when...Bill finally stopped breathing. I thought "oh no, i just
killed Bill!" Even in these moments, i could recognize the humor of the situation. i had not stuffed a pillow over his face or pinched his nose shut and covered his mouth...physically the gentle human touch does not kill...unless it's a fingertip pressing the panic button in the oval office...hmm, anyway
what i'm trying to say is minutes later the nurse came in and confirmed what Billie had said...Bill's done. sadness is that feeling when you realize your fishing buddy bill is gone...
I sat back down in the hard backed wooden chair and cried. cried that silent deep hold your head in your hands cry. culturally, i found it interesting the way we grieve in our country. for the most part, we hold it in and try to be polite about it. funny the feeling might be to beat the chest and wail...there was no one else in the entire Hospice House except the nurses...but even then at this hour we tried to hide and muffle our hearts sobs. I watched as Bill's closest friends and family arrived. Bill had died in Bud's shirt. Bud told me this after he cried those guiltless tears on it (those i think only the dearest and most trusted best friend can shed). I watched as Bud of Popeye build held Billie in an embrace that supported this indestructible fireman/Strongman competitor...
I wanted to say thank you to Bill for giving me this moment. where strength crumbles and the body...
no, no it was more poignant than that...
he showed me how even the most polished or fortified exteriors can crumble or crash when hearts are touched. Grown men can cry like babies. Angry sons can lose it in sadness. That is "the angry" is gone and the invisible sadness finally appears in its place...
later standing out in the hall, i talked to Bill's only brother Gary. Gary has the craggy appearance of a farmer and the slow measured responses of a cowboy. We shared a moment comforting each other reassuring ourselves that we'd done everything we could in these last few months...
still guilt remains. Gary who's spent countless hours at Bill's bedside throughout the last few days couldn't help but wish he'd been there for his brother at the very last breath.
i described for him the best i could what he'd missed. i think this is a very male thing to do. the male brain wants the facts, details, what parts of the machine that gave out...i told him how Billie (a paramedic)- had said "see how breathing is restricted more to his chest? I’d be surprised if he’s here this time tomorrow. It’s getting close..."
we laughed but with Bill how close is close? there really is no way of knowing deaths exact timing...well unless you watch someone stick their head in a lit box a dynamite...Bill’s as tough as nails. He’s been enduring like this for weeks. Like he’d built up a weird stamina for pain. So much so his mind and body had no concept of letting go even if it would end suffering...
i can't go so far as to say Bill is in a better place. i did not know him as a religious or spiritual man. i know he is out of pain. i know bill is done. he has friends who honor and esteem him for his honesty, patience, craftsmanship, and a generosity that we will always seek to model and carry forward...bill would like this.
okay, last thing. in tribute, i've picked out a song i think Bill would really like. it's my hope for him right now.
love you Bill
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