Life After Death…
What I’m Learning in This Process
I became a widow the morning of April 7, 2021 at 5:37 AM. Since two AM I watched and listened to my husband of nearly 45 years struggle with labored breathing. I knew he wasn’t in any pain — probably the only positive about end-stage renal disease. I called the nurse because I sensed his breathing changed from earlier. Sarah came and started another course of morphine to make it easier, but then she awakened me at 3 AM to tell me he was in his last stage of life.
I can’t imagine having gone through this without the help and care of our Respite House. At this new stage, I moved over to his bedside and started talking quietly to him about chasing our dogs and seeing his folks again. By 4 AM she had gotten approval for morphine to be delivered under the skin, every 15 minutes, to hopefully alleviate the breathing struggle.
I got our small owl quilt a friend made that represented Dean’s mom after her passing — her coming to “take care of us” in the aftermath of her passing. I held his curled hand on top of the quilt and watched as Sarah administered the regular new doses. His breathing was like he was running two marathons at the same time. It was so labored, quite the change from the sleep apnea patterns he had the day before. He needed to let go, but my husband was nothing if not a stubborn New England…
