After three years supporting her thru DLBCL, the journey came to an end. I can’t talk about the details of the last few months with anyone. They were horrific and she shared it all with me. I don’t know why God choose to torture her so. In the early years , I’d often say to people, that “ … I wish it was happening to me and not her.” But by the end, that instinct was washed away by the constant viewing of her physical anguish. She would say to me” What are we going to do?” And I’d shrug and babble something meant to comfort.

The final days started with a near total loss of energy. She had to be lifted from sitting, and lifted from lying down to a sitting position. Then one morning not even that. No longer talking, heart racing above its now normal 130 bpm. Two days in the hospital and no improvement. I pulled her out, an ambulance ride home now in hospice care. Hospice providers were great, they provided supplies and training, and stopped in for an hour every morning.

We monitored her heart rate as we played her favorite 60s folk songs, we told her we loved her, she squeezed our hand now and then. Her hands went cold after 3 days, her pulse dropped sharply. Her sister and I each held one hand and we sang Kumbiya one last time. Her breathing became shallow and irregular. Her heart slowed, it seemed to take forever, her eyes never opened. After 50 years of living and loving her, she was gone. The window was open in her bedroom, and her spirit lightly passed out into the garden, past the lemon tree and up to God.