Afterward, Fiona wrote David’s obituary while Kate helped me move David’s belongings from the nursing home and fill out the many forms that death requires. 

We had decided already that we would schedule a memorial gathering later, in the spring.

Classes had begun: David died during the first week of the semester.  Generous colleagues launched my courses that week, so I had a few days before my own semester began.

People sent sweet notes.  Colleagues managed the impossible balance of checking in, acknowledging the long hurt of loss while recognizing that I needed enough composure for classes and meetings.   

I no longer sleep with my phone, but for months I’ve reached for it again and again in the early mornings to call before David leaves his room.  Fiona and I are no longer on high alert, but we’ve been coiled and tense for so long that we’re just beginning to learn how to breathe more freely, how to ease the level of alertness.

We speak often about gratitude: we’re grateful that David didn’t suffer longer, that we were together in those last days, that those who cared for him were so gentle and attentive and perceptive. 

We’re grateful for everyone who offered kindness to him and to all of us in these long years.

Thank you for reading.