tears

I notice that I said I'd try to write every day a little bit and that hasn't happened. I apologize to those of you who'd like more frequent news. It's fine to call too if you want, and I'll do my best here.

Yesterday David was quite physically able, getting around well and staying up for many hours at a time. Medications have been changed hoping to gain David increased mental clarity. It seems to have worked somewhat. He is able to talk a bit more about how things are for him, and hold a short conversation. Mental processing is still challenging for him. He can do simple things he's done many times before, like stir soup at the stove, but needs assistance using the inhaler that requires multiple steps to work properly, and is something David has never used before. Last night I found him in tears saying that he was unable to dial the telephone. He had been trying to look up a number on his cell phone and then dial it on the land line, and frustratingly wasn't able to. He asked me "How can this be?" And I hugged him and listened.

I'm told there will be so many things that David will be asked to let go of. In my clear moments I can see that each letting go can be horribly painful, if the thought is that it shouldn't be like this. Then I recall Byron Katie, one of David's and my favorite spiritual teachers lovingly saying "I don't see a problem" as she sat with a woman in the hospital with one leg swollen to 3 times the size of the other. Katie really sees like that, knowing each thing is as it should be because it is right now, and in that experience peace is possible.

So I hugged David and listened, and then I asked him if it is ok, all of this. . .? and he could almost find it. So I breathed and asked him "Can you really know it's a problem that you can't dial the phone? There will be so many things to let go of, each one painful, . . . or not. Go in and see David, what do you find?" And he started to breathe deeper too, and I could feel him coming home, if just for a moment. " This is the support I need", he said, "with you or other people helping me remember to do this." And I knew he meant that he'd felt peace in the midst of the confusion, if only for a moment.

If you've never done Katie work, this may seem like too much, as it is a huge brain stretch in the beginning. On our first date, over soup, David asked me about my life, in particular my spiritual life. When I rattled through "Alanon, Unity Church, A Course in Miracles, Eckart, oh and Byron Katie, I did her 10 day school in 2003" his eyes lit up! David had been doing Katie work for 7 years, and was thrilled to meet someone else who loved to "have her mind blown" and wake up a little at a time in the process. If you want to understand this more, there is a great website where you can listen to Katie doing the work live with people. If this is foreign to you, it may make more sense after that. www.thework.com For David and I, it's been one of the ways we connect, and support one another all along.

"Let's go have dinner" was his next request. And so we did.

After dinner he started to cry again, talking about all that is being lost, and he asked "Do you think I can just lay down and die?" I said I didn't think he could decide when that would be, but that, yes, that seems to be on its way. And I thought, "Oh, this letting go is so hard for us humans." I had promised Cameron I'd watch a movie with him, so I dialed David's friend Gary in Alaska, trusting that sharing love and conversation would be soothing to David. When David came upstairs later he seemed in a peaceful space, and ready for sleep.