I have had so much
spinning in my head about my visit with David at Denver Hospice. To try to put
it all into words is overwhelming and I keep finding myself just staring here
at the screen. But the words need to come out and tonight, I had to start with our last
words. Just to get them down so I won’t forget them. I want to share
them with you, those of you who know him and who have been following his story.
There is so much more to tell – the way God got me there, what He did in the
time I was there and more – but those are all still spinning just out of reach
for me. But this, tonight, I can finally grasp to write down.
I had spent the evening with him, just chatting about old
times and our favorite TV shows (Big Bang Theory!) and all sorts of those
regular kinds of things. It was wonderful to talk about normal things and “catch
up.” And it was wonderful when David
said, out of the blue, “You know, you spend your whole life being afraid of
death and then when it’s here… it’s not so scary,” in the forthright, bomb-dropping
manner I have always associated with him. I have always loved, cherished and
admired that about him. He just says it like it is. Painfully, sometimes, yes,
but I still love it. We talked about how weird it is to spend your whole life
hurrying up and then to be lying there in a bed, just waiting. Waiting. What do
you do? Watch TV? Read a book? Seriously. It’s damn crazy. (I’m pretty sure he
said it was bullshit. J)
We both cracked up about it. (This is another thing I love about David… his
irreverence. It’s something we share – though he has always had the better
talent for it.)
I offered to drag him to a burning building so he could go in and rescue someone
and have a heroic moment and break the boredom. He cracked up and said “yeah,
sure, do that!” We talked about movies, and old friends and crazy times. We
talked about how a person is good but people are stupid. He loved that one. He
slept on and off and it was good to watch him sleep, peacefully, snoring away,
temporarily free of the clutch of pain and nausea. As he slept, I got to catch
up with Lianne and David’s mom, Gail, while Darin went home and picked up their
dog, Durango. I got to love on him too! J
(Darin AND Durango.)
And then, too soon, the hour was late and the snow was
coming down in a blizzard and it was time for me to make my way to my cousin’s
house. That moment I’d been dreading was here. The whole reason I went there.
To say goodbye.
I crawled up in his bed with him and Darin took pictures of
us in our matching Bazinga! shirts. I turned to David, laid my hand on his face
and just tried to memorize those beautiful eyes that were smiling back up at
me. They had pain in them but they were still smiling.
I said, “Okay dude… I guess you’re going to get there before
me, so I’m going to be counting on you to come and get me when it’s my turn,
okay?”
He kissed my hand and he simply said, “Okay.”
I fought to not cry and smiled at him and said, “I’m not
kidding. Do you promise? Because I’m gonna be looking for you.”
He smiled at me and nodded. “Okay. I promise. Thank you for
coming.”
One little tear escaped down my cheek. “I had to be here.
Thank you for letting me come. I love you.”
He reached up and brushed the
tear off my cheek. “I love you, too.”
I bent my head over his and
kissed his forehead, giving up my battle to keep the tears back.
“I’m sorry. I just got tears all
over your head.”
He smiled at me. “It’s okay. They’re good tears.”
I kinda choked out “I know. I just love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Then I held his face in my hands and I told him, “We’re
gonna take care of your people. I promise you that. Okay? Don’t worry too much about
them. They’re gonna be okay.”
This time he had a few tears and he hugged me and whispered,
“Thank you. I love you. So much.”
I kissed him again, and crawled off the bed. I held his hand
and told him one last time, “I love you, too, sweetie. I’ll see you again.”
And he smiled and said, “Yep. You will.”
You better, David, 'cause I already miss you. I
love you.
Sissy, I love how you love people.
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