Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Daughter's orchid; gold gold fish; Her loving hands; Her corner.
Once a long time ago someone repeated the line on the needlework. I tried to live by that one. 


I am going through pre-loss grieving.

For a bit I thought I thought that one up, but it is more common than I might wish, I guess.

As I write, I am sitting across from my beloved. She is asleep as she is most of the time now. Her jaw is slack, her eyes are sunken, her eyes are closed. She does not look alive really.

Yesterday we bought her a new bed, one that will be more comfortable for her and one that is comfortable enough for me so I can rest with her. When this is all over, I can take the bed to Idaho, maybe. 

I went to a wood wind concert last night (about 100 great collegiate musicians doing wonderful music). When I returned Miriam was in bed and Arline told me that she had been very upset, crying, even shouting at times. She was not married and “who are you?” When I got there, I took my shoes off and laid down beside her, snuggling under the other half of the top blanket.

“Who are you?” “I am David your husband of almost 57 years.” “I married you on June 10, 1956 and that we had been married ever since. “Then why has it been so long since you have been here?”

“I was with you all day today.” 


Finally, she settled down to sleep and I got an hour early sleep lying beside her. 

It was good and not so good at the same time.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

The daughter who came the furthest informed the others that the purpose of the trip was to be with Dad. We had some good face time.

Friday I came down with a nasty cold, so I was barely conscious Saturday. Today I was up to somewhere in the 90 percentile There is nothing like being sick to appreciate health.

This after noon daughter 4 drove back to Portland, and tomorrow I take daughter 3 to the airport an hour away so she can fly back to SanFrancisco. It will just be us then.

They are concerned about their father, that he is healthy and yet does not seem to have a driving force right now (that is my diagnosis not theirs! Truthfully, just taking care of Miriam does not allow too much effort in thinking ahead.

"What is your biggest dream, dad" they asked. "Go over the top and list the big one."

Of course, that is a lot easier to talk about to some one else than to do for and to yourself, so I will work on it. To this point my head has asked: "When it is possible and permissible to think in the future?"

Daughters say it is now, I am not totally sure!

Today the daughters were all here. They are not sure how their mom will be in a few months, so they were intent on getting a photographer. Friend Elwin, who is an amazing chap, agreed to do the Portraits.  I am impressed. 
It was about noon and there was little shade. If you look at the top photograph, the sun is shining just a few inches past our toes!
These are wonderful woman, and their old daddy adores them.
The lower picture, by the way, was taken on the front porch of my little house.