Exit, Stage Left

SWISH. That's how I feel right now. Like a basketball shot clean through the center of the hoop. Its after-wind whistling through the net...rippling those nylon diamonds as it drops and rolls across the court to uncharted destinations.

Yikes! The saga of G.G. continues. In my last post, I wrote: G.G. left behind a husband who doesn't even know she's gone. Doesn't know his own name. Doesn't even remember that she existed. They told him she had passed. He doesn't know the difference between G.G.'s death and stuffed eggplant.

I was so wrong. Me. The one who's spent countless hours studying recollections people have of what transpired around them when they were unconscious, sedated or in Near Death Experience. I've read enough case studies from medical journals to know that there is a high incidence of recorded cases where people could quote, verbatim, what was said or done. Enough to know that, despite being in the last stages of Alzheimer's in a coma and on hospice, G.G.'s husband, T.G., could comprehend the that she was gone.

When my brother told T.G. that she had passed, he also told him that if she was the reason he was holding on to life, he could let go now. And after G.G.'s memorial service, he went back to tell T.G. that we had held a memorial for her and had honored his life at the same time. All of their mutual friends and family were there, as was his hospice worker, and it just seemed fitting. Less than 8 hours later, T.G. left his body.

Since he and G.G. met, he had always bobbed along behind in her determined wake. It was like she made one last grand exit, spun on her heels, and with a haughty SWISH of her cape, wrapped it around him and...ZOOM...they were gone. Both in less than a week. Leaving together in death as in life.

I'm the one left standing here with eggplant all over my face. Thanks, T.G., for the wake up call. Bon Voyage...but I have a feeling I'll hear from you again.