“MAYBE THREE days,” the hospice nurse said.
Connie’s vitals have started to drop and her breathing is changing. She has not eaten anything for three days and in the days before that, very little. She doesn’t drink.
I decided it was time for a talk because plans had changed. She and I had spent hours planning end of life plans from estate planning to burials. We had decided some time ago we would be cremated.
We had decided our ashes would be interred in the family plot in Sugar Grove Cemetery in Wilmington, Ohio. When it became apparent she would be going first I told her I’d put her in the car, drive out to Ohio, visit my sister and leave her with all the others who have gone before.
But plans changed so in the fading light of a warm spring day I whispered in her ear about cremation and how she wouldn’t be going to Wilmington.
“I have something to tell you,” I said into ear while she gripped my hand. Surprising how strong that grip remained when everything else was so weak.
“I am not taking you to Wilmington. After this is over and you are ashes to ashes, I am going to bring you home with me. I’m having the apartment painted and I’m changing it around some. I decided I don’t want to leave you so even though it will be different, you are going to be in the apartment with me for as long as I live. I’m never going to leave you. And, when I pass, our ashes will be mixed in one box, along with our wedding rings, and then we will go to Sugar Grove. You and I together. Is that OK with you?”
I didn’t expect an answer. She hasn’t talked for day.
But she tightened her grip on my hand an opened her eyes just a little bit and stared at me, then started moving her lips. I leaned in and then it came, as clear as a bell.
“I love you.”
Then she closed her eyes again but kept the grip on my hand.
If that was “good-bye” it is a farewell I will treasure for whatever time I have left. I will hear that “I love you” as I fall asleep, when I wake up, when I look at her picture and think back on a wonderful life with a wonderful person. I’m not going to let go. She’s coming home to the small apartment when this is all over and then we will go home together.
Rich Heiland, has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. Since 1995 he has operated an international consulting, public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development with major corporations, organizations, and government. He also writes the blog stuffonmymind.blog. Semi-retired, he and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].