Hammock Swing

I really like these hammock swings my son brought back from Nicaragua several years ago. He went there on mission trips with his junior and senior high school class from Chop Point. Chop Point is a kids camp in the summer and they run a school the rest of the year with about 100 students from kindergarten through twelth grade. There were six students in Jared's graduating class. No room to disappear between the cracks, something Jared liked to do. They have a sister camp in a small village in Nicaragua that serves the kids who live at the local dump. Great eye opener for the kids, on both sides I guess, and a chance to make a meaningful contribution.

We discovered Chop Point by accident during a very special trip down the Kennebec River. My late husband and I always loved boating on the river. We spent a lot of time kayaking it, and spent time on my brother's 30 ft cabin cruiser, sometimes sleeping on deck, waking up to the stillness of the morning, with just the other early risers like heron, eagles, fish, sometimes seals.

After Dan died, the boys and I decided we should scatter some of his ashes in the river. So Bill brought his boat to Gardiner and we headed downriver. We stopped to scatter them at Merrymeeting Bay - where the Kennebec and Androscoggin Rivers converge to run to the sea. Afterwards as we were talking, we noticed the school/camp onshore. Jared had been having difficulty at the public school (when your father's dieing it's difficult to concentrate on school work but the school just didn't get it) and we'd been considering other options. So it seemed kind of serrendipitious that we saw the school at that time, and sure enough when we looked into it, it was exactly what Jared needed. It was a Christian school and that kind of turned us off at first, but it wasn't rabid Christian and the people there were very intelligent and caring. Christianity had been important to Dan so maybe he sent us there to find it.

So anyway, Jared brought these hammock swings - made by the locals I believe - back from his first trip to Nicaragua. They're much better than a full hammock because they hold your head up, making it easy to read, write, drink, or just veg. And you give it a little kick once in a while to keep yourself swinging. Nice place to spend a sunny afternoon.

Dan

Dan with our first son, Justin.

Today is the seventh anniversary of my late husband's death. It may sound odd, but I always look back on it thinking, "it was a good death," as far as deaths go. It was back in 2002, just a few months after 9/11 when so many families sent their loved ones off to work, never to see them again.

I remember thinking how lucky we were to have time to do all the things we needed to do, say all the things we needed to say.

He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor back in 1992. The doctors gave him 18 months, tops, to live, had he taken the standard chemotherapy the oncologist recommended. Instead, after surgery Dan decided to try some clinical trials out of Tufts University and sure enough, two years later, the tumor was unnoticeable on a CAT scan. The doctors were amazed and were sure the original diagnosis must have been incorrect because they'd never known anyone to survive that long. We didn't really care, we were just grateful that he felt good, was able to do the things he enjoyed, as well as continue his career as an electrical engineer.

We put it behind us and moved on with the business of living our lives and bringing up our three sons. It was always there in the background that the tumor could return but it had little negative impact on our daily lives. The boys went from 3, 5, and 8, to 13, 15, and 18, before it did return; so they were given the gift of growing up with, and getting to know their Dad. I'm sure they would have had very little memory of him had we lost him as the doctors originally predicted, back in the early 90s.

But come early September 2001, the tumor returned. I thought he was having a stroke one morning and called an ambulance. He went into a coma as I discussed our options with his doctors, and decided to try some chemo. The doctors said the tumor was too deep to do surgery this time.

The chemo worked, though we anticipated that it would only be effective very short term. This time they predicted less than six months.

Dan never completely came back at that point. He came home and was able to enjoy is day to day existence, though his cognitive abilities were substantially diminished. He enjoyed being in the house with the boys running around, lots of visitors - friends, family, and church members. He had a wonderful Hospice volunteer who'd take him shopping or out for coffee or lunch. You had to be kind of careful because he might stoll off on his own or get it into his mind that he was going to drive. But never in a cantankerous way; he was always good natured and easy going about it.

A few weeks before his death we had a hospital bed delivered and he spent the last couple of weeks in it, with great home care through hospice. The night he died his brother Peter and Peter's wife, Laurie, were there with me. We knew it was time and we had some old home movies of the kids playing on the tv while I held his hand and Laurie and Peter and I talked. The boys came in occasionally, and each spent a few minutes alone with him. Dan's church group had been over earlier in the evening with their guitars and tambourines and had sang and played music for him. He was unconscious but I swear I saw him tapping his foot at one point.

I think it was about two a.m. that he finally let go. His hospice nurse had been there until about 10 and she came right back when I called and made the phone call to the funeral home we had prearranged.

The family - his seven siblings and spouses, and his Mom and Dad - gathered with us the next day to support each other and to remember the fun times.

It seemed his death came too early - at just 53 years old. But it was in peaceful and loving surroundings. I think that's the best any of us can hope for when our time comes.

The Room

Sleeping late this morning I dreamed that I discovered a new room in my house that I’d forgotten was there. This is a recurring dream, though this time with a different twist. The room was filled with objects that had been left there I realized by a previous owner. Many of the objects were bits and pieces you’d find in a 5 and dime, or you’d buy from one of those TV commercials – not available in stores! Buy now! There’d be 5 or 10 of some identical items stashed away in a little box. On a large table in the middle of the room were a multitude of framed photos, all with identical frames; photos of people whose faces weren’t clear to me. There was a king sized bed with a luxurious tapestry bedspread on it. I was fortunate to discover the room when I did because some visitors had just arrived and needed overnight accommodations. I don’t remember if I knew who they were but I know I wanted them to stay. We started cleaning out the room together; throwing away much of what was there, but every once in a while, keeping some little trinket that seemed to speak to me. I woke up just as my late husband walked into the room, and looking up, there was Rick, about to kiss me goodbye as he left for campus.