by muddy feet mama
We chose the Ritz Carlton in Half Moon Bay in lieu of the Hawaii trip we had hoped to take. A fine choice, especially since we’ve barely left the room. Our friends contributed generously to our Hawaii fund, a last-hurrah for our marriage I suppose… This was just as romantic and much easier to get to. Many thanks to the folks who have helped us have this time together, either through funds or watching the dogs – you have given us a great gift.
Jay has taught me to love hotel rooms. This one is average in size, with more of a view of the golf course than the ocean, but has a deep, wonderful bath and a fire pit on the small veranda outside of our sliding glass door. Inside this room I am content. Our drama has paused. We are here, now. Cancer is too, but to no great effect – as long as I linger over our minutes and hours like days and months. This morning we listened to men, like giant babies, have temper tantrums on the course. What exactly are they cussing about? Across the service road, within earshot, we inhabit different worlds. Good.
Having drinks this evening, downstairs in what used to be the “high tea” room, our conversation shifted to the memorial service. What will cremation cost? We’ve already asked our friend Tony to say the eulogy… who could speak other than that? We should call Hospice tomorrow and get that started… I feel us segueing rapidly back into real-time and head back to the room. Time is slow in room 435. I cry on Jay’s good shoulder, we sit outside under the stars listening to the surf, he takes more pain meds, yet another bubble bath and things slow down again. Much better.
Jay’s pot cookie is kicking in and he’s ordered room service. We are in our lovely cocoon, listening to African music on my phone. Tomorrow we head back to our lives, collecting our kids from school and his sister from the airport, but until then our lives are in slow motion. I will imprint his touch on my hand. I will remember how he comforts me now and store it away for another time. We will shoulder the weight of all of this together – joy, grief, fear, anticipation, loss – until it is just me. I have never been so heartbroken and never felt so blessed.
This afternoon I read to Jay from Ecclesiastes: “There is nothing better for a man than he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that is was from the hand of God.”
Carpe Diem, ya’ll. This time is a gift.