Thirteen Days without David

            We’ve missed five outpatient clinic appointments at MGH. In other words, it’s been thirteen days since David died. It hasn’t really hit me yet. Will it ever? The flurry of activity with the visiting hours in our home (which is the former McCarthy Funeral Home, in actual fact) and the funeral arrangements were distracting, and we spent the rest of the week at a rental house in the Catskill Mountains of New York: all our remaining kids were there for at least part of the week. Yesterday I did housekeeping: laundry, making beds, cleaning up Jim’s office, catching up on email.

            It is a relief to not worry about him or spend two full days each week at his appointments. It’s easy to think he’s just away from home: he should be in Texas now with his Army unit.

            I’m grateful he died at home. It is a blessing that we could provide him with a quiet, safe place to die.