I am not awake by choice but I finally just gave up. My mind demands attention and so I’m writing a slice to keep the peace.
It’s darkness all around me with just the light of my trusty computer screen and the TV to my left that always offers me the sound of human voices and the news for this new day opening the outside world to me, in the background.
I am thinking about my friend Eileen who is probably not thinking about this world anymore. I wish I could know what she is thinking about. I wonder, will I see her again?Do I want to see her again?
It was good to be with Tuvia’s grandchildren last night: Mihael(7)playing his guitar for us, annoyed that I didn’t bring mine along. Mia, at 5 proud to be learning how to read and sharing her new books with us, reading extra loud to make sure we give her all our attention. I want to!
But back in the car, in the darkness, we are quiet. Every so often, Tuvia reaches over for my hand, just to remind me he is with me through this ready to explain what’s happening, the way Mihael might explain the intricacies of his guitar to Tuvia. I’m not sure I need to know the medical details but even being a patient at Sloan Kettering, Eileen and Andy were happy to have Tuvia explain in non-medical language, what they needed to know.
I’m so glad I could offer him. I feel helpless.
We make plans for the next few weeks cautiously. I stop debating a trip to DC for the National Writing Project to attend our annual conference next week. I know I won’t be going now.
Eileen and Andy and the family are preparing for the end with the support of Hospice.
Hospice. I don’t remember now when I first learned what that was. Over the past year, I’ve come to know it well.
Eileen is a hard friend to lose.