I wrote this post on July 11, 2016.

I have been avoiding writing this post for a while now. But my mind keeps pestering me to get it done! I both want to write about our last days together, and at the same time am dreading it. To be completely honest, I want to do it for Arie. Personally, I think that grief and time dull our memories of dark events so that we have a chance to continue to move forward and heal. If I had to remember Eric’s last day with me with the clarity of the following morning, I wouldn’t survive. I don’t know if I believe that time heals all wounds, but it sure does make my life livable. Alas, I want to be able to remember the day for Arie, should he ever want to know about it, and I do feel like things are already getting fuzzy. So here goes.

Friday, May 20 – Eric was in Spectrum on our beloved 5 North. He’d been in and out of the hospital countless times recently, and each week he seemed to be going downhill. We had had a very honest discussion a week or two before this last stay and had decided to bring in hospice. In Eric’s words he wanted to shift his focus from the quantity of his life, to the quality. Blessedly, since the battle began, we had always been on the same page for every medical decision, and this was no different. I was to the point in the process of being able to see the pain that living caused him, and while selfishly I wanted him to stay with me as long as humanly possible, lovingly I wanted him to be free from that pain that I always saw on his face and in his movements. So on Friday, he officially switched from palliative care to hospice care. I truly believe that the most important thing I ever said to Eric, besides “I do”, was that no matter what he choose, I would never think he didn’t fight hard enough.

Saturday, May 21 – Eric was released from the hospital and sent home. Hospice had already come in and set up his hospital bed in our living room so everything he needed was on the main floor. We also had an oxygen machine, a hospital table, and a chair that lifts you out so you didn’t have to stand up on your own. You can bet I had fun in that thing! Eric was very weak. The short walk from the car to the house was met with a nice long break on the couch. Spirits were high, and the sun was shining. One nice thing about hospice is that they can give you higher doses of meds than other doctors. I think that in the end that’s how he was finally able to go home to Jesus. He had spent so much energy on fighting to stay strong, not to mention the energy associated with his constant pain. When they finally got him comfortable on meds (a nice cocktail of morphine, methadone and some sort of oxy) I think his body was just able to finally relax. From then on, things moved quickly.

Sunday, May 22 – It was a pretty mellow day, from what I can remember. Eric had wanted to try and take a walk to the end of the driveway, but he never really felt up to it. He was sleeping a lot, but I was hopeful that they just needed to adjust his meds. He was on a continuous IV infusion of some powerful stuff. He started to do a few things that were abnormal, and that I recognized from a book that hospice gives you about timelines for the end of life. Talk about a downer. He would pick at his clothes in his sleep, as well as make funny hand motions, like he thought he was mixing a cocktail, and he started talking during his dreams. I would wake him up and he would need to take a second to get back into reality – and then he would apologize for sounding like a crazy person. He did walk to the bathroom on his own though, which was a huge endeavor. Overall it seemed like we had about a week or two left.

Monday, May 23 – We tried two drugs to get Eric to be a little more alert, but sadly, neither of them did much. They cut back on his meds to see if that would bring him out of his sleepy haze at all, but that didn’t seem to have any effect either. The hospice nurse came in the morning and she confirmed that he seemed like he had about a week or two left. Lots of tears all day long. Sometimes I would wake Eric up, either from crying or just because I wanted to talk to him, and he would apologize for making me sad and tell me that he loved me. Love him. Obviously I told him that he should be sorry and it was all his fault…and then we would giggle at our inappropriate humor. I told our immediate families and some close friends about the nurses’ prognosis. Super fun chats.

At this point we all know that things went much faster than anticipated. Subconsciously, or more likely, by the grace of God, I must have known things were bad because at night I called my dad to talk about my feelings – something I never do. And on the phone no less! (I am a lover of texts, not calls) I told him that I was afraid Eric wasn’t going to come out of this long enough to have some of the conversations that we hadn’t had yet. He suggested that my mom bring Arie up to Grand Rapids (he was staying with my parents that night) so that he could provide a little distraction. **Disclaimer** This is the worst/best part, so grab a Kleenex if you need one. Or just stop reading and make up your own ending.**

I had kept waking Eric up and telling him that he should record something for Arie when he got older. He kept saying that he’d do it tomorrow when he was feeling more awake…he was convinced that he was going to start feeling more alert the next day. He also said that if he filmed anything, I’d have to write a script because he wouldn’t know what to say. Which actually makes me happy now, because I do know exactly what he’d want me to write, so I don’t have to be sad that we weren’t make the video for Arie happen. I did, however, sneak take a video of the two of us talking. It is my most prized possession. I woke him up, we told each other that we loved each other, and that we were each others best friend. And it was perfect. When Arie showed up around 9:15 that night I brought him in to see Eric. Eric woke up, grabbed his little hand and said “hey, buddy”. And that was the last thing he said. I brought Arie in the kitchen to hand him off to my mom and not a minute later Eric was making odd noises and couldn’t be woken up.

Both families made it in time to say goodbye (whether in person or via FaceTime for the out of state family). And Eric’s best friends also made it in time to give him their love. Eric snuck out one final grunt the last time I told him I loved him, which I absolutely believe was him saying it back. The hospice nurse had come to check him out too, and she said that since he was a young man, his strong heart could possibly hold out for a while and that we might be in for a long night. But as a final answer to prayer he passed away at 10:55pm, less than two hours after he entered that final phase.

He was loved and held and prayed in to Heaven, surrounded by friends and family. He was finally pain free.