Tuesday, August 25, 2009

The Crossing Over


The weeks leading up to 21 July 2009 were tiring to say the least.

Bob had been more restless than usual. He kept wanting to get up and walk around--forgetting he only had one leg and needed his wheelchair.

For several months he had bouts of not remembering how to eat or what was appropriate to eat. He would dump food off his plate and try to eat the plate. At first this was only with the paper or styrofoam plates so I stopped using them.

Then one day, as I was in the kitchen cleaning up, and he and Robbie were eating supper I heard a funny noise. I turned to see him trying to eat the china plate.

This did not happen every meal.

He had taken to calling for his Mama at night sometimes. Other times it was a friend of his work.

On the night of the 20th of July he was restless and I had a feeling something was wrong.

He told me he did not have any pain and could not express what it was he wanted.

I got him tucked into bed and Robbie went to bed also.

I camped out on the sofa so I could hear better.

Around midnight I heard the two of them talking and went to see what was up. Robbie would get up in the night and mess with Bob--thinking she was helping him, she only caused him to get agitated. She was smoothing his bed covers.

After getting her back to her bed and settled back in, I once camped out on the sofa.

Sometime after that, I think around two in the morning, I heard her scolding him. I went in to check and he had had diarrhea. After directing her back to her bed, I got him cleaned up and his bed changed. Again, he said he was not in pain after being asked.

Later in the wee hours of the morning of the 21st, I heard them talking softly. I went to the bedroom door. She was standing by his bed, offering him another blanket, which he declined. They said their "I love you" to each other and she walked back to her bed.

At 8:00 a.m. I went in to get him cleaned up and sitting up for breakfast.

He had already crossed over, his last words a softly spoken "I love You" to his wife of nearly sixty years.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

What I'd take to jail with me

Diary
So I can write. I cannot live without writing.


Hair Brush
I have to have MY hairbrush.


My Prayer Things
Sage, tobacco, shell, cedar, sweet grass--They can lock my body up, but not my Spirit.


Lock of my Lover's Hair
It is self explanatory.