He died in exceptional peace, returning to his Rich-essence, smelling sweet and so, so beautiful.
But how many hearts he has broken, how many tears water his way -- I cannot count. Friends, yes. And the staff with us in Rich's final hours. For Meghan, on duty only a few weeks, this was her first Hospice death, and she began crying when she confirmed what I knew -- no more heartbeat, no more breath, only silence as I rested on his chest.
John, of course, to whom I gave Rich's electric shaver, and who with Meghan and me washed him for the final time, and gently placed his head on the pillow, and covered him with a fresh sheet.
And when the funeral director rolled him out of Room #5 -- the best room, the corner room with view of pond and field and autumnal forest -- I kissed and said good-bye, handsome, I love you so much -- she cried, too.
"You must see this all the time," I told her today, as we made the final arrangements.
Not really, she said. There isn't as much love as you might think.
I write because I'm numb. Because I still don't get that this sort of love isn't everywhere, no big deal.
But now that Rich's body is gone, I don't know what will be left behind, or how explosive grief can be when mixed with high-octane love.
Over the past months, I have taken notes. In the days to come there will be many to thank, many phone calls to be made, many rabbits and mice to kill (that's Thundercat speaking; we all grieve in our own way).
For now, thank you for reading this, for all the past days.
For the future, I plan to continue this blog for 49 more days, as Rich and I move on.
In gratitude,
Candace
6 comments:
I wish you and Rich deep and lasting peace on your journeys, together and apart. Your love has enriched my life and all whose honor it was to share time with you. With much love and respect, Barbara
Already you know from many of us that we are holding Rich's last moments, and this day-beyond (for you), in our hearts. But thank you also, Candace, for your intention to continue writing Chordoma Dance for "49 more days." I have a hunch that almost all who read your posts are, like me, not just casual "readers"-- but are also saying goodbye to Rich and processing our grief side-by-side with you... and so receive your words as companions on the journey of grieving-into-new-life. I'm grateful that there is yet more time to explore this unfamiliar terrain "together."
Peace to you, sister~
Gail
Tears are running down my face as I am writing this to you. What a love story, one that you will have to cherish forever....One that will live on forever! I am sending you peace and love to sustain you in your next chapter although I know that will not ever be enough. You have been so blessed to experience a love so strong. Take care Candace. Fondly, Kaley
To all -- I write not as one who "knows" anything about love or death or life; I'm just learning by doing.
I'm profoundly grateful for the thoughtful and supportive and challenging comments, and thanks for sticking with me, for being my friends, for being my teachers.
Much love -- Candace
Today was our first Health Careers Board meeting without Rich. As we began, we held him in our hearts in a deep silence of gratitude, respect and love.
Thank you for writing during these long months, Candace.
Janet (HCEC/CU)
Thanks to both of you.
Love,
Beth
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