Kali just headed out for duck chores and doesn't want me to start on her birthday meal preparations without her. Terah just came downstairs to help me do dishes but when Grandma reappeared the pull to go with her was just too strong and I lost my dish washing helper. So my choices are to do the dishes alone (but why do something alone that I can do with her), or check the hourly weather obsessively to see if we will be able to go forward with Kali's outdoor party this evening (which is pointless as it changes every time I look), or try to write a few of my deeper musings about life of late while I'm all alone downstairs. I'm choosing the latter!When we were at UVA a few weeks back visiting B in the hospital, we were able to reconnect with Noreen, the doctor who was very near and dear to us in the last week of Nora's life and has become a special friend. We credit her, and those that helped carry out our palliative care plan for Nora, for helping us to care for Nora in her final days of living in a way that honored her, kept her comfortable and maximized our time with her. Every time we have been together in the 9 years plus since, we have floated the idea of doing some joint writing together around palliative care and our experiences working together (the shared perspectives of a family and a doctor). Our recent connection rekindled that interest and I'm putting out there the goal that sometime between Nora's 10th birthday in October and the 10th anniversary of her death next June that we at least seriously get the ball rolling on that project!
When we said goodbye at UVA, I again extended the invitation for her whole family to come visit us in Keezletown. While interest seemed high, they are a busy family with two growing children and so I wasn't getting my hopes up (too high). Needless to say, I was excited to receive a text last week with their one and only free day in August, which beautifully coincided with a day on our schedule that had nothing but "harvest day" written on it. I didn't delay sending my enthusiastic "please come" text back, and what followed was a beautiful day together!
The four of them arrived in time for a late Tangly Woods special brunch - the morning's harvests of veggies laid out on the table and surrounded by various potato crusted quiches and nettle cornmeal biscuits. Over the course of the meal we learned that their son was an avid fisherman and when he heard of the pond a meandering two mile hike away, the enthusiasm for grabbing our rods and checking out the spot was palpable.So after a little spin around outside (side note: my favorite tidbit from the day was Jason sharing with me that Tom noted to him walking around our place that he experienced a combination of envy and relief - so well stated! It's beautiful, but what a lot of work), we took off for a hike (all of us hiking and Terah snoozing until we were at the lake and she roused in time for a little splashing). A few blue gills were caught but then TJ got serious about his pursuits and waded in (not to his parents' surprise). We were about to head back when he snagged a large bass and just as he brought it to shore it escaped. He was given the "just 5 more minutes" warning, and his determination paid off as he pulled in a nice bass right under the 5 minute mark.
As he cooked up the fish in our kitchen he told me how proud he was. He said something like, "I have to tell you that from the minute I caught the fish until now, I'm feeling very proud." He had every reason to be as the fish was delicious, with the lemon thyme and rosemary he had picked and the shallots they had made on the side with butter. I had made two kinds of lasagna and we enjoyed cucumber salad and greens beans and then some chocolate ricotta mousse to top it off...but it all kind of paled in comparison to the fish!The day was just overall a very fun day. It was a day of rekindling friendships, enjoying delicious food, getting fresh air and exercise, and watching children enjoy the plants and animals surrounding us outdoors. But the preciousness of the day was not lost on Jason or me. To this day times with persons who knew us and Nora intimately rank among the most special ones to me. As we sat down for our first meal together, we pulled our little stack of meal blessings from the center of the table to see what was on top. It seemed so very fitting that "When the Rain Comes Down" was the blessing for that meal. That is the only song in the whole stack that comes from the lullaby CD that we had on repeat in Nora's room the last few days of her life. I'm all for making meaning of things like that, and so it just solidified the uniqueness and I'd go as far as to say sacredness of the day to be singing, "When a baby smiles, she's smiling for everyone. No matter if you're rich or poor, no matter if you're great or small. When a baby smiles, she's smiling for us all."
Towards the end of the day the adults had this short luxurious block of time where all the kids were outside playing and we got to talk about writing - not just our writing together but writing in general. I found the conversation fascinating as we talked about the kinds of writing Noreen does for medical journals and how often she feels the need to try to remove her bias or emotions or experiences that have impacted her deeply from the research. I understand the pull towards that notion and possibly the pressures felt to do so in scientific publications. At the same time, it was for us her choice to engage with us fully as human that were experiencing loss and grief to a level we had not previously faced that was so powerful and life altering for us, and I also believe for Nora. I believe Nora died well in part because those helping us care for her at UVA, approaching us not as a number or a case but as people with a family and a history together and values that mattered. It made all the difference in the world. And I feel like communicating those kinds of stories is an excellent complement to also sharing the quantitative data that I think will likely only back the qualitative stories.
So we'll see what comes of our conversation! There is no lack of interest, it's all about carving out the time and space and prioritizing putting energy into that - which I want to do badly enough to put it out there in this space as a goal for the coming year!
Going into our day together I felt almost pure excitement for our time together. But there was (and is) on my mind and heart the reality of our neighbor Samuel's decline. We had offered to be on call as needed that day and so were unsure, until we knew that his care was adequately covered, if we would stray far from fruit farm lane. As we hiked and talked about Nora and talked about the plants growing around our place, our neighbors and dear friends were never far from my mind. This journey of loving and losing hits all of us in waves at different times.
When Nora was with us, Samuel and Margaret were some of our key supporters - making sure a fire was in our wood stove when Nora came home for the first time, bringing a meal to UVA and playing music for us as we comforted her, being part of her memorial service, and being part of our lives all the years since. The journey has twisted and turned since then, bringing us two more daughters and them two granddaughters, our lives overlapping and in touch more at times and then seasons of less regular contact. But always the assurance of them being there, just up the hill. Neighbors that are also close friends are truly precious, precious gifts.
It was easy to be focused on the changes and the obvious decline in health. But he only had to rouse briefly for us to see the glimmer of his light and humor and care shining through. When he first woke briefly and saw we were there Jason let him know that he had been working on rehabbing a chicken coop that Samuel gave to him. I can't remember the exact words but without missing a beat, Samuel said something like, "of course you were." He knows Jason well! We then went on to share how our chickens were taking more than their fair share of our tomatoes. He said something like, "You'll get them...you'll eat them." He had a smile on his face as his eyes drifted open and closed as we talked to him and to Margaret and then as he drifted into a deeper sleep just with her about these days and the ones ahead.
When it was time to go, I had to pull myself away. I felt the tug to go relieve my parents and also just wanted to sit there for hours rubbing his leg in their cozy home that houses so many precious memories. Finally, we said our goodbyes and I approached Samuel to give him a hug and a kiss. When I kissed his cheek his eyes came open and he smiled. He then offered me the most precious gift murmuring: "You've been a good neighbor...and friend." It was yet again a testament to Samuel's kindness and generosity that he gathered the energy to share this gift with me, to have these words ringing in my head and heart (which do nothing more than make me want to be an even better neighbor and friend to those around me). To be someone that brings out the good in others is nothing short of beautiful!
As we walked up the hill, I told Jason I feel like every time recently that we have been able to slip away from our crazy and chaotic brood and head to their home, I feel like I'm exiting one world and entering another. As we walked home, I wondered out loud to Jason if we'll experience this - if one of us will provide 24 hour care for the other and vigilantly journey with them in their dying. I only hope that if I am the caregiver, I can be as present and loving as Margaret. And if I am the one dying that I can do it without fear and with love for those around me and even a sweet smile like the one Samuel shared with us last evening on my face.
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Kali is done chores and ready to get party preparations underway!
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