He Lived. He Loved. He Died.

Not sure where it will end up as I write this post. I am writing it based on a few thoughts that showed up last night as I was saying goodnight to Gregory.

Often when I first think of Gregory, I see him in his bed on the fifth floor memory care unit at the Lieberman Center shortly after he died. Having received a call from Manny that Gregory had "taken his last breath," I arrive at the room, door closed with a blue dove on yellow sign posted to inform staff that he has passed.

I entered the room sad but unafraid. The tears flowed and I commented out loud to myself (and maybe to Gregory if he was listening,) "Oh Gregory. You were finally able to do it! As you used to say, 'You finally found your way out while the rest of us are still looking,' I am happy for you."

I sat down and held his hand which was still warm. I kissed him on the mouth. I put my nose close to his and inhaled deeply, trying to catch any last spirit that may be lingering.

These poems. which I had read previously, from friend Kate Swafter (diagnosed herself with Dementia;) were my motivation.

Last Breath

Remember when the times comes

To breath in very deep

Take my very last breath

And make it your own.

Sunshine

Somewhere in the distance

The sun is still shining.

Less now, but often, when I first think of Gregory before preparing to drift off to sleep, this is the image that fills my mind: Gregory dead. It used to be very painful but now it is less so.

Last night, same image, but with these thoughts: "He lived. He loved. He died. We all do!" So why should I be so upset? I miss him, I am lonely without him, I miss sharing my life with him; but he only did what everyone does and was just able able to do it before I was able to do so.

For some reason, thinking about death as "only normal" makes me feel better. Gregory's death itself, over three days, was peaceful but he did spend twelve years (that we know of) preparing for that moment. 

And he prepared for that day, starting on the day we received the diagnosis, with his usual approach: joyful, loving, compassionate, calm, giving, supportive.

That is not to say that he was not at times frustrated and angry or that we did not cry and rock arm in arm. But for the most part, he lived well with Dementia/Alzheiemr's

As I have said many times, "He was not a victim of Alzheimer's, he was a hero!"

The more I think about it, and the more that people share their throughs with me, the more I realize what a good person Gregory has always been.

Maybe it is just a measure of the passage of time; but I cannot really recall any time in our 41 year relationship when he was mean, or spiteful, or jealous, or hurtful, or vengeful, or resentful, or gossipy, or judgmental, or any other negative one can think of.

He lived, he loved, and he died. Nothing more. Nothing less. And he did so well! An example for all of us. An example for me as I carry his last breath with me in all I do!