I spent a good portion of the day yesterday unplugged, at a friend’s house, knitting and drinking champagne and fruit juice, a basket of homemade cranberry muffins to nom upon and just good chatting and laughter. I haven’t felt so relaxed in weeks.
Thank you all for your continued comments and stories of Rusty. Please feel free to add more there or here, I’d love to hear them.
He was moved to the VA Hospice in Dayton yesterday; he’s on the 9th floor there and Aunt Gay says he has a lovely view, even though he’s not able to appreciate it. His pain is so bad now that they’re keeping him medicated. The good side of that is that he’s not in pain with so much medication. The flip side of that is that he is too medicated to be able to eat or drink. It could be just a matter of days. But then again, if they get it regulated, he may have weeks. He has indicated he’d love company, so if you are near the Dayton area and have a love for Rusty Hevelin, you should swing by.
I’ve always been one that values quality over quantity of life, and one who values my loved ones not being in pain more than I value them being in pain and in my life. I believe the end is a time to show that you have taken to heart the lessons learned and love gained from the person leaving. Yes, there is heart-crushing loss, grief, fear of how much missing them is going to hurt. But I also feel that your individual pain or regrets shouldn’t be keeping someone here if it’s their time to go. I hope, whenever I lose someone (and it seems unfair that I’ve lost so many) that I have spent every day telling them, showing them, that I love them, and that they know that I know they love me as well. That they don’t feel they have to stay around to tell me something. That they can rest knowing that I will miss them but that the gift of having them at all will eventually see me through mourning. That there is joy on the other side; laughter, memories, photographs, stories, healing. That because we carry them in our hearts, in our actions, they never really leave us.