Pause

Today I paused. I put down the books, the phone, all of the distractions and I held her hand. I watched her rest. I listened to her breathe. I smoothed her hair. I held her hand. As she slept, I told her every story that popped into my mind. Over the last 7+ weeks, we have had many opportunities to talk, laugh, cry and be still. We have covered a lot of ground in the hours that we have spent together, each of us taking turns asking and answering a myriad of questions.

Pause. Breathe. Love. Repeat.

As her eyes flutter open, she asks for her ginger ale. Smiling, I reach for it and put the straw to her lips. Sip. Burp. Sigh. Repeat. She smiles and winks and our conversation ensues. She mentions nonchalantly that my Papa (her husband that passed away 13 years ago) has been to visit her. Her eyes turn towards the window as she speaks and I can see the glisten of tears in her eyes. I can feel her love for him permeating the space and I know she misses him like crazy. She shares the snippets of their conversation that she can remember and my heart simultaneously swells and sobs. She is almost ready to be reunited with him. I ask her to tell me the story of how they met. She gives me a sideways look because we both know I know the story from alllllll directions. We also both know that she loves to tell me the story  so I lay my head down beside her and she begins. I close my eyes and play it like a movie in my mind.

I fall asleep as she speaks, gently clutching her hand and she must have dozed off too. I’m not sure how long we were sleeping for, but when I open my eyes one of her doctors is standing at the end of her bed smiling at us. I reach up to touch her face and wake her. I know what’s coming. 

She is tired. Her body is exhausted. She has been open and honest about her feelings and what she wants. Despite all that on day 46 she agreed to do whatever the doctors asked of her for 2 full days. All treatment, all medications, all tests. In my heart, I knew this wasn’t what she wanted. Everyone knew, but no one was ready. She did it for them. She did it so she could say the decisions she was making were coming from a clear mind. There was to be no confusion. Near the end of day 49 he came back. She reached for my hand. We keep each other steady, her and I. He asked all the same questions and got all the same answers. Her mind wasn’t changed. Her wish was to stop it all. I had an out of body experience in that moment. I felt my heartbeat quicken as tears stung my eyes. I turned to face the window. 

Pause. Breathe. Love. Repeat. 

This is day 51. The doctor is checking in. He asks how her pain is and she smiles and murmurs that it’s ok from behind closed eyes. I rub her hand as she squeezes mine. He is here to say goodbye because he is heading to a hospital closer to his home. He tells her how much he has enjoyed working with her. Tells her that it has been an absolute pleasure. I hear his voice catch and when I look up, I can see tears in his eyes. He tells me that there is something about her, something so special. I smile and nod. She is a remarkable spirit in an adorable human package. He tells me that she has made an impact on him. She has that effect on people I say. He comes over to shake my free hand and, as he does, my tears quietly spill over. Many tears have escaped my eyes in the last 51 days. Angry tears, happy tears, frightened tears, sad tears. Tears of acceptance and knowing. I squeeze his hand gently and thank him for all he has done. I know his job isn’t easy and I know this encounter will stay with him. As he attempts to smile at me, I see a single tear roll down his cheek. I tell him how much we appreciate everything he has done and that we wish him and his family well. One more small squeeze and I let go. He reaches over, puts his hand on hers, whispers thank you to her and leaves the room. 

This moment has been looming. This moment has been a pregnant presence in the room for 3 days. 3 days of them wishing, wanting, hoping, praying for a different outcome. 3 days of tired and delay for her. I choose a different wish. She has spent the latter of these 51 days preparing me in her way. Helping me see all the possible nexts through her eyes. I see what she sees. I feel what she feels. My wish, want, hope, prayer for her is that she gets exactly what she wants. Peaceful passage. Comfort. Light. Love. 

I have gotten better at concealing my tears from her. I know she knows about them, but I do my best not to let her see them. I have decided that my pain is not a burden for her to shoulder or carry. My honour at this time is to help light her way. She has been a light my entire life, always there showing me the way. What an honour this is. 

I know what’s coming, but it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is this moment. I lean my forehead against her arm and get still.

Pause. Breathe. Love. Repeat.