It was 3AM when I got the call. It had been an odd day. Out of the blue, or so, it seemed at the time, this volunteer lady with VON just somehow called me, and she drove me back that day to the cottage from the hospital. As she was driving me, she goes “now I have insomnia, so don’t you hesitate to call me, at any time, for anything”. How sweet is that?
Well, a year ago tonight, I got the call from the hospital, and I stood there for maybe 5 minutes and cried, wondering how I was going to get there…then…WAIT …the VON lady. So I called, and she picked up in 2 rings, sounded chipper and off she flew out the door, and came and got me.
These angels, they arrive just when they’re needed. I truly believe there is some kind of divine intervention at play. Like some collective vibe that some tap into, and when the call goes out, something in them compels them, and off they go hunting out who is in need.
I’ve actually encountered both sorts, the earth ones and the Others. I’m not sure what they are, but they do seem to become present during certain deaths. Maybe someday I’ll illuminate that story, but not today. It’s a longish tale, and it’s not what is on my mind.
I carry these thoughts around with me, see. I think about those last days. I wasn’t there enough, I keep thinking.
I was mentally and physically so diminished by the time Tim decided he wanted to go to the hospital, but still, I wanted him at home. But that was for me, and this now was for him. I had been up that afternoon, and stayed all day, I thought he looked good, and I should have known better. I was so tired, though, so very very drained. I know he wanted me there more, but I just couldn’t. I thought we had time, I thought I’d know. But I didn’t. I was blind.
With Mom’s death, it was so different. At home, peaceful. With Tim though? I might have known he’d pull a fast one, and try to sneak off in the middle of the night. The nurses had come in, I guess, earlier and had to get him back in bed, as he was sitting up on the edge of the bed, and was refusing to budge (this does not surprise me AT ALL). Then, an hour later, they said he was not responding, and they said I should come.
The rest is private.
In the end, I have to acknowledge, Tim was right. It was better that he died in the hospital. At the cottage, it would have been so much harder. Thinking back, there would have been no one there, and I’d have had to call everyone…which I recognize I was really in no shape mentally to do. I was closing off too…after all, a piece of me was dying with him.