Sweet stories of David

These stories arrived in the past couple of days.

Dear Family and Friends of David Demere, and most especially Tara,

I have wanted to reach out for many months, but have not really known how.
Finally and maybe too late, or perhaps just on time, I send my blessings and my
thoughts. I loved David so much, all his earthly values and virtues and his
incredible passion for life.

David was one of our most special guests at our wedding 7 years ago last
September. Although he came on his stretcher, his spirit was by far one of the
most vibrant and present of all 140 attendees. Not a single person there
overlooked David’s passion for life and also his enthusiasm for our wedding vows
and our celebration of love. When we got our wedding pictures it took a few
weeks to figure out who was this person skinny dipping off the rock?? It was a
body that looked so strong and vibrant. How could this be a body teeming with
pain, a body that had already overcome a forecast of death? But there was
David, like a Roman God, ready to splash into the cool brackish bliss, choosing
the best that life offers!

I have been carefully following the blogs (Thank you Tara!!) and have so wished
that I had a chance to see David again before his body finally gave way. My
life has not allowed any time to break away, but I have consistently whispered
prayers your way. Since moving down to Portland just over 2 years ago I have
always wished to spend time with David and Tara. We saw David when he passed
thru Portland on trips and stayed nights in our “sleeping nock.” His quick
visits were always special and sweet. I especially loved how he connected with
our children, Owen and Elena, and how he was always ready to roll on the floor
in a good wrestle, even when he wasn’t feeling that strong himself.


Reading the blogs today, I sit at my computer sobbing, all alone. I am struck
by what an incredible family and community David has been a part of and also
part creator. Also, Tara, how strong and clear minded, and beautifully spoken,
and so many things you have been to David thru these times. I wish I could be
there, but I am comforted by all those who have been. Thank you all for taking
such beautiful care of David during these last few years and months! I look
forward to joining you all for the memorial service later this month. We can
all rest well now, knowing that David had a beautiful life and a beautiful
death.


We will all miss him, but never forget his spirit for life!

With Love, Wynne

As I read through your blog, one thing that stuck with me was how you will remember David dancing. I, too, will remember him dancing as he was the first to dance with me at my father's memorial (back brace and all!), and the time my sister and I took care of him in Little Rock.

It was a beautiful day and David wanted to be out in the fresh air. We took a short drive to the local park and he told us to "take me as far as the wheelchair could go". When we got to this point, he said "let me walk for a bit" And so we walked with him a bit. Then he said "Let me climb a bit" so we let him climb. My dance training came in very handy at this point as I became his dance partner going up the mountain. My sister and I tuned in to him so well that all he had to do was reach his hand out for the next step and we were there to support him. At first he said "let me walk to the line of trees". When we reached that point, he said "Let me go further". We walked and stopped until we reached the top of the mountain. He looked at me and said "Scott, we have danced up the side of the mountain!" "Yes, David, we have!" His heart was full of joy that he could go that high and see this great Earth spread out before him. He was happy that he was with 2 people who could lead him safely on this journey, and who could help him gently back down the mountain. He slept soundly that night!

I am attaching some pictures from that journey. Here is David, at the top of the mountain, dancing. This is what I wish to place within his casket - the memory of a great day with a great soul in a weakened body. His spirit shown forth and gave him the strength to spread his wings and fly, even for a short bit.

God Bless.

Scott Crawford

cousin

dancing atop the mountain

- Show quoted text -

Ancient Proverb:

The Lord Smiles to hear me sing,

But he loves me when I dance!

the boat

These photos don't really do justice to the beauty of the scene here, but for those of you who can't be here in person, I wanted you to see.

november 1

I awoke early this morning so tired, and sad with the awareness that I didnt' think I could do justice in writing to the beauty of yesterday. I checked my email and found this! Here, for you:

november 1

cold november morning

day after the first snow

bare ground

most of the leaves now fallen

finally a few, quiet last breaths

he had stopped struggling

no more moving or trying

all done.

after the weary wives had spoken

and one slept and one left

there was eating and drinking and a sigh of relief

that he was peaceful.

some quiet moments to spend by the still body that lay quietly

by the candle to guide the soul,

time to think thoughts or say things to his still hovering spirit

that were unsaid before this time.

decorate the barn, the women did, as only we could.

with old sheets and fabric the wooden barn became a fine parlour,

a place for him to rest and have his goodbyes.

then the boys came with their beautiful box of pine,

a pine boat cushioned with sweet fir boughs

a fine double ender, no less.

the vessel for the next leg of david demere's last great adventure.

then, the candles were lit

and the sea river water was gathered in glass

warmed on the stove and scented with rose oil.

the women, sons and father gathered together around his fine body

and spoke and remembered and honored and wept and laughed and cleansed his body

with the water from the sea river.

we had no plan of how to,

we just did, and it was... perfect.

he was then dressed in his finest garb

and we put him in the pine boat built by his fine sons.

he rests sweetly upon the fir boughs

and fit just right.

he looked good there.

then carried by the strong boys,

the boat, the man, followed by singing bowl

and women and father

and lots of love...

into the barn parlour in candle-light

all of old wood, looking very much like a sanctuary.

we said goodnight/ goodbye,

(not really feeling very ready to say good bye,

but we may have to say that several times before we really mean it)

candles burning to guide the soul,

a lid placed atop him in his boat,

a candle in a jar on the boat

in the cold barn,

barn door shut.

one by one, as ready,

we retreat into the warm house

to start over.

Joanne Moesswilde

visits welcomed Tuesday, Service Nov 20/21

We are welcoming visitors in our barn (bring your jacket and hat) Tuesday Novemeber 2, all day and into the evening, if you want to say good bye in person, or add a special little object or note to David's casket. Our address is: 125 City point Road Belfast, 2 miles exactly from Alexia's pizza toward the movie theater, out High and then (same road) City Point, on the right.

He will then be buried at Seth and Tyler's farm by a small group of family and friends.

We are planning a memorial service for the weekend of November 20/21. Date and time to be determined.

9:45

David took his last breath at 9:45 this morning with nurse Kathy, mother Margaret, Tara, Lauren and Elsie by his side. Chris and his children arrived shortly after, and everyone is here together now.

hours to days

The nurse came this morning, listened to David breathing and looked at him. She then shared that she thinks we have hours to days till he makes his transition.

Also this morning I received by email a poem that Joanne Moesswilde wrote after being here Friday night. David had just heard that Lucretia was in labor, and the baby was on its way. Joanne stood David up to help him to the commode, and what ensued was a beautiful exchange of two people who have loved each other a long time, and danced many many dances together. I'll let the poem tell the story. Leave it to David to dance his way out of this world!!

when bed to chair transfer becomes a dance

your bony arms resting on my shoulders

as you use my body to stand up

on your thin legs.

going from bed to chair, now a long process for you.

we stand face to face

your lost eyes look for an answer;

i say, "like we are dancing, david."

and then comes a smile so big on your now thin face

your eyes light up in focused gaze,

we are dancing on the wooden dance floor again;

a little tune comes humming from your dry and frail lips

now brought back to life with laughter and a playful click

your left hand takes my right

in proper ballroom style our bodies sway

and every dance we ever had is repeated and recalled

here in this 90 second dance

as we transfer from bed to chair

Monday 4am

Hi all,

So I'm here in the living room with David. Joanne is here too, but since she has work tomorrow, I'm the point person, and she's my backup. It's a good system, at least one of us gets a little sleep, and noone gets burnt out. So far there have been 5 or 6 people who've spent the night in this way, and we're getting better at it. Last night two friends where here, Susan and Chris, and they took turns being point person in addition to having me as back up. They managed fine, gave meds in the night, and then at 4 when David said "I really have to go!!" they rang the bell and I came downstairs to help. I had had 6 solid hrs of sleep.

We worked together to get David out of bed and onto the commode next to the bed. He isn't able to stand on his own now, and so needs full b0dy holding and support. Chris was wonderful moving David. When I showed him how to put one foot between David's feet and hold him close he said, "Oh, the tango, I can do that!" So Chris did a very slow tango with David and managed to move him the 12 inches need to line him up with the commmode. One person in front and one behind, we helped him to sit down. BTW, I found the commode seat is very sharp!! One of our support people taped a small folded chux pad over the edge, and that makes it much safer. I scraped David's back one day "helping" him sit, and that really sucked. Back to yesterday morning, David sat for a bit, us trying the tricks we know to help someone pee; water sounds, fingers in water, a psss sound, all to no avail. So back to bed for all of us.

At 7am I called the on-call weekend hospice nurse and asked about a catheter for David. At that point he had not peed since 11 am the previous day, despite repeated attempts. She agreed and said she'd be here at 9. Karin had already arrived and I was getting ready for work. The nurse checked in with us, told David what she was here to do, began undressing him in preparation for the catheter, and he responded by peeing a large amount of light colored, totally normal looking urine!! The nurse joked that this was his way of being clear he didn't want a catheter!! I'll admit I was glad for a reason not to have to change a whole wet bed and person, and to leave David in capable hands. As I was about to leave, I heard the nurse say tenderly "You're welcome, David." She told me later that as soon as she had gotten all the wet clothes off, and dry ones on, he turned to her, opened his eyes and said clearly "Thankyou."

Today there is a plan for Lucretia to visit with the new baby, along with Minh, Oai, and probably Tyler, Seth, Anna, Ada, etc. I talked with the nurse about how to give David the best opportunity to be alert. We agreed to decrease his meds a bit, essentially waiting till he clearly shows he needs them before giving the next dose, as opposed to giving it on a schedule. Also, come morning, to give smaller amounts and see if they are adequate. David is on liquid meds at this point, so they act pretty quickly. It's an experiment.

All that as a preface to the morning that we're now in. Joanne and I decided last night that it made sense to give the full pain med, and a 1/2 dose of the anti-anxiety med that David has normally been taking, as I have wondered if that lasts longer as a sedative. Joanne is also a nurse and said it's usually given every 4 hrs and she didnt' think it had lingering effects, but we're erring on the side of alertness just in case. David has begun to have very wet sounding breathing, and some blood in his mouth again the past few days. He's coughing quite a bit I think in response to the gunk in his throat.

It's 4:30 now, pitch black out, a few lights on inside. I turned on James Taylor about an hour ago when I was feeling lonely. The cat is asleep at the end of my little bed. David is a few feet away, bed tilted up high to keep the liquid down in his lungs, and he's gurgling away, sounding pretty uncomfortable. The little hospice end of life book says that gurgling isn't necessarily uncomfortable, so I'm trying to stay relaxed about what this is like for him.

The past few days I've had the sort of shocking realization that he's not coming back. You know, there's a way that I could almost believe that this isn't really David. David is away somewhere, and one day, he'll come home, his vibrant, loving self. The first time it happened I was at his folks house and saw a photo of him a few years ago. There he was smiling and bright, and it hit me, I'm never going to see that David again. He's been such a source of healing, connection, and support the past 2 1/2 years and now with this hard thing, he's not here to help! Funny, wierd, impossible, and I notice sometimes I think he should be here, or I wish he was. Now who's having a hard time letting go?!!

Anyway, I slept a little between 10 and 2, and have been awake since. I rested till 3, got up for some cereal, repositioned David a bit to see if I could help him be more comfortable. He's often hot and responds best to just a flannel sheet over his midsection, feet and chest exposed. Finally at 4 I figured I'd write, since I don't seem to be sleeping. I'm feeling a little raw, and like my brain isn't working very well. Yesterday at work, I could do most things, but when it came to being patient and having perseverance with a customer who was looking for a wedding outfit and didnt' like the 30 or so things I'd brought so far, I asked a coworker to step in because I could feel that I didnt' have any more extra resources or creativity available. It's great to be in a situation where everyone understands that this may happen for me, and is willing to step in. At my work, we have this kind of supportive commitment to each other, and it's especially helpful at times like this.

David's approaching death is intense for everyone so all the relationships are being challenged. I am happy to notice that I am staying pretty clear. I am in an amazing place in my life right now. After many years of internal work to get "healthy and happy", having not started my life in situations I would label that way, I am very glad to be having the internal experience that is here now. And I'm indebted to friends who remind me when I forget how to reconnect with my essential self, and be here. All that work is definitely showing itself during this time. I have had a few difficult conversations with family members, and each time, I notice I'm showing up pretty fully. Often I pray before and during, to be the open channel, and I'm thrilled that I can mostly stay with myself, be kind to the other and at the same time clear, and breathe and be, in the midst of the challenges. I can feel the strength building in me, as I enter these conversations with an open heart, courage, and love for self and other, not shrinking away out of fear.

Byron Katie says "Everything happens for us, not to us." I can find that here. As mind-blowing as that can sometimes seem, I'm finding that it's true.

One last thought, yesterday was the first day David stayed in bed all day. I feel sad when I write that. No going back, you know? I miss him so much.

Tara