In the last two days, it feels as though Leslie has hit "the wall." Her body has simply run out of resources and is shutting down. I wrote recently that it can be difficult to notice change when you're with someone almost 24/7, but the latest decline has been all too apparent.
Leslie hasn't eaten in two days, and drinks only in very occasional, very tiny sips, mostly to keep her mouth wet. Yesterday, she alternated between deep sleep and a half-awake hazy stare; overnight, that shifted to fairly steady low-level restlessness. She murmurs often, but without focus or clarity.
Our hospice nurse visited today, and found that, for all the other decline, Leslie's pulse and blood pressure remain solid. The girls are on their way home today; is Leslie holding on for their arrival?
To return to Boston, it feels as though Leslie has turned off Hereford Street and is coming down Boylston. She's reached that moment where you marshal the last of your reserves and, knowing you won't win, seek to finish with strength and dignity. I have more sadness than fear, since that's exactly how Leslie has faced every challenge thrown at her in the last year.
It is a journey. Even though the need to finish came so much earlier than anyone would have wanted, that she chooses to finish at her own time and on her own terms is something precious. I hope that's clear. Having time, real quality time, to spend with my dad and my aunt in their last year made the release, I think, easier on them and on the rest of us. Never easy--always painful, but easier. Thinking of all of you and wishing you all peace.
ReplyDeleteDavid, I don't know Leslie well, but I know from all that she shared via the blog and all that you have told me that she is incredibly strong. Boston is a perfect metaphor, especially today. I know Leslie will give all that she has until the finish line. I am praying for her to be able to hear you and the girls and to comprehend your comforting and loving words. She surely knows that the entire family fought this with her. I am so sad for you all, but also so heartened by all that you have shared and taught us in the last year. Much love, peace, and comfort to you all.
ReplyDeleteChristine
Take care of yourself, David. You are a strong person and it must be a great comfort to Leslie to have you close by. I think the blog is an extraordinary example of courage from both of you. I will be thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI've seen runners cry at marathon finishes. Always kinda choked me up. That last paragraph of yours made me cry outright.
ReplyDeletePerfect metaphor. David, you have been so wonderful throughout all of this. As an earlier post said, take care of yourself and keep reaching out. I have appreciated how much you have included those of us far away (in both space and time)and I hope in turn it has helped you. You and Leslie have handled all this with an amazing amount of grace and thoughtfulness. She has lived a full and meaningful life, a most valuable thing to reflect on at the end. Savor your last times together.
ReplyDeleteDebbie
David-Thinking of your whole family, and the amazing parents your kids have-thank you for keeping us in the loop and give yourself permission to do whatever you need to do.
ReplyDeleteI remember when you started running-and this time, you are doing it in your heart while also facing the largest of challenges.
Love to you all.
Cathy & MArcy
David, words can not express the feelings that I have for you and your family. What a race, what a story, what a wonderful person your Leslie must be. Watching from the sidelines, I am in awe of your strength and your love.
ReplyDeleteMuch love,
Lori
Having gone through what you described literally yesterday on the course, your post brought me to tears.As I have said before, I never met Leslie, but I feel like I know her through your wonderful glimpse into her being and meaning over this incredible journey. I know not to be sad, but to be moved, but I also know that the world is losing another great one. Peace to you and your daughters, David. I think of you daily and you and your family have been in our prayers at Marist (Shannon's school for some time).
ReplyDeleteLove always,
Michele (Keane)
David, such a wonderful metaphor for such a thing. You always seem to find the right words in the right situations. My heartfelt condolances.
ReplyDeleteWe know what great joy she has brought to you and your family's life. Keep those wonderful things close to you and share them often.
Stihl