Robert Comes Home

Robert was a journalist and writer. He did not belong to any religious denomination but was one of the most spiritual men I ever met.

So it became apparent to him, much sooner than me, that he was dying. We have a beautiful garden that he loved to sit in. I think that he would have loved to just drift into death just sitting there in the sunshine, but the cancer spread to his bones. 

He had to go back into the hospital. This time it was a nightmare. He absolutely shattered. He had been emotionally and spiritually a whole person, but now he just blew apart from the pain.

We took Robert to the hospice on Page Street. His body tense on the stretcher, he was carried up the stairs to the large sunny front room. I watched as they laid him in his bed. Within minutes his whole body relaxed. He turned to me and said, ‘I feel as if I’m in a sanctuary.’ Just being there he was one piece again. Whole. I slept on a sofa in his room in those final days. Everyone was so kind to me too, I felt nurtured by their caring.

The morning he died, the caregivers, his daughter, and I washed his body.  We had a little altar, candles, and a service. Together we linked hands and prayed. It was a wonderful transition and I was grateful for them for suggesting it. Robert would have loved it, as he believed very much in ritual. Looking back, it meant so much to me that he got good physical care in those last weeks and that he also got all the other kinds of care he needed. That made all the difference.