The Vigil

And so our vigil began. A family gathering. Rob, Matt, Peggy, Lenny, Mom and me. Rob asked if he could bring his girlfriend, Joanne into the room. We said yes. Joanne carried in a box of chocolate chip cookies lined with foil and then sat a respectful distance from her future father-in-law who would never know her. It was staggering, all that Bob would not know. Two daughters-in-law, six grandchildren, the internet. At fifty-three there was so much future ahead.

The hospice room had two beds in it, a sliding glass door which led onto a patio and typical hospital furniture. We moved in. I brought chairs from home, a photo collage, sunflowers, Bob’s tape player with his opera music, an ice chest filled with beer. As the night wore on, we lined the wall of the patio with the beer bottles. We prayed Hail Mary’s. Visitors came to the door to say goodbye. Fr. Peter administered the Sacrament of the Sick. We sang Be Not Afraid.
We prayed the Hail Mary over and over.
Holy Mary
Mother of God
Pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
Amen

2:20 p.m. Journal entry
The nurse tells us that we are very close.
His coloring is very pale.
His breathing is irregular.
I wonder why it takes so long for the body to die.
Il Trovotore is playing.
His legs are bluish – especially his knees. His feet are ice cold. His hands are still warm. We must die from the feet up.
We are all shifting around the room. Mother never leaves the bed.
His eyes are slightly rolled back.
Mother just sits and looks at him. Another labor.
Rob is taking care of Mom. He is attentive and gentle.
Matt is flailed on the cot.
Lenny and Peggy sit on the patio.
Steve brings us food then goes back home to be with Gillian and Brendan.
Someone needs to be there for them. I’ve not been much of a mother these past few weeks. I wonder if they will remember their Uncle Bob before he was sick.
Brendan just graduated from kindergarten.
Lenny left to be with his support group. Now it is just Peggy, Rob, Matt, Mom, Joanne and me. Waiting.
What are we waiting for?
No. We are waiting with him.


4:20 a.m. Journal Entry
Is this the death mask?
His hands are cold now.
I feel him leaving.
His face so gray, so narrow –
There is a cold energy mass vibrating just above his body. I wonder if it his spirit? His body is ice cold. The coldness keeps moving up – his head is still hot.

4:30 a.m. Journal Entry
Peggy decides to massage his chest to make it easier for him to breathe.
We beg him to go. His breathing begins to slow.
He thrusts his tongue, parched, cracked, hideous mouth and gives a shallow weak cough.