the week that is over

It has been such a time, such an indescribable time. David is dead a week and that itself is unbelievable. David's death happened in minutes, and I will explain it, but not yet. Suffice to say that when I went into the hospital on Monday morning, I planned talking about about getting him into the rehab unit at the hospital to get his strength back -- the infected gall bladder seeming to rob him of all strength. Just after his lunch was brought into his room, his heart stopped never to be started again. I was with him for most of the time, and I am grateful for the medical staff that fought so hard and valiantly to save him. I sobbed and wailed when they stopped their heroic efforts, but I could do that only because I knew how much they cared for us. Heart transplant patients are special. They are the VIPs, the dearest children of medical invention.

Cheshire, Julia and I were immediately surrounded by friends from near and far. I have been fed body and soul by such care that I have received. My dear friend Lisa, responded to my plea for her to come out from Maryland before I left David's bedside. I also had, as the heroic effort was going on, called Mary, a friend who lives close. She came to the hospital and then was my shadow for the day and my handmaid for days, doing what needed to be done, intercepting phone calls, making sure there was food and necessities in the house, doing the slightest of tasks to make the day bearable for me. Lisa was with me from late Monday night until Sunday night, and although I truly hated letting go of her even then, her presence, her sense, her planning, her wisdom steered the ship around here for the week. These women know how grateful I am, but truer sisters I could not have.

Our friend, Linde (Cheshire's friend from 3rd grade), joined us for the week. She worked, she talked to all of us, she helped with Julia, she has always been part of our family, now only more to share this time. Madison friends visited on Monday night to check on me (and put Julia to bed), and so many other days to bring food, take Julia for some fun time, and just to talk. We filled the days after David's death with tasks -- funeral home, church, shopping, planning, writing. Lisa planned and presided over the memorial service. Lisa has been a Unitarian minister for almost 20 years and her expertise was so needed for me. She wrote beautiful things to say about David, sang to us a haunting hopeful song, and led us through a difficult, sad service with grace. My Madison friends from Julia's school and the theater company that perform David's play in the spring planned and executed a lovely reception after the service at the home of another dear woman friend. A harpist play the loveliest of tunes during the service, and the shuffle on David's ipod gave us music during the reception. I thought of Debra during the service and her harp. It was so right. I spoke during the service, and also our friend Chip and the Chief Justice of the WI Supreme Court and the dramaturge who was the last person to talk to David about his work -- just a week before he died.

And all the people who came. How incredibly dear. Friends from Bloomington, Indiana, Indianapolis, Chicago. Relatives from New Jersey, and Boston, and Layette, Indiana. Law school friends, court friends, theater friends, and Madison friends. I was humbled and so very happy to see all of the faces. I needed all those hugs.

Before the memorial, on Friday, July 9, David was cremated. Lisa, Mary, and I went to the funeral home, said a good bye to his body, which was simply prepared and which had been placed into the simplest biodegradable box. We gave him our thoughts, Lisa said a prayer, we covered his body with red and white rose petals. We obeyed no religious law, no creedal dictate. We obeyed only hearts and if there was somewhere for David to smile from, I have no doubt that he chuckled silently and raise one eyebrow. I was able to help the funeral director push the box into the oven, and finally, I push the button that started the fire.

This was the process, the full process, that I needed to start my own healing.

During this time, Julia has been with us or friends, or with her intensive autism therapists. These women redid their schedules to give Julia blocks of time that were long enough to us to get what we needed done. That effort continues to part of this week as well. And they did so much more. Today, Morgan cleaned Julia's play room, putting toys away and clearing days of chaos.

For all the pain of last week, those who were in this house could not ignore the grace, the communion, the dearest of times that was going on. We were cocooned together, a chrysalis time, a time of transformation, metamorphosis. Right now, I was our small community back, but it is inside and feeding my spirit.

The work of this week is the paper side of death. I have worked on the estates of my niece, my father, and my mother, so it is not at all strange. This time it is for David, and it will be harder. But tomorrow, I will clean off the desk, make my list, and start making calls. By the end of this week, I hope to be done with most of it -- at least the first round. Cheshire is still with me but she will leave by the end of the week to go to Europe - not quite as she planned but modified and I hope enjoyable. I will join her in St. Albans, England, on July 26. Cheshire, Julia, and I will attend Alice's wedding at the end of the next week. I hope to see some friends in England and to get a change of scene that I need.