You don’t get to choose how you’re going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you’re going to live. Now. – Joan Baez
My wife Robbie’s dad died yesterday. He had a massive stroke while she was chatting on the phone with her mom and died within minutes. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, at 86 years old, plus he’d been having a variety of heart-related troubles lately and declining in strength.
Robbie wanted to get out to see him (they live in Eugene, OR) before he got any worse, but then with my daughter’s Scoliosis surgery, complicated by an infection, it wasn’t possible. So she’s very sad. But it’s a good sad, in that she really had a good relationship with her dad, unlike me and my dad. I’m sort of envious of her grief, which is a little weird to say, but it’s true. He so enjoyed just being around her, never criticizing her or trying to change her. Our marriage is good in part because of the good relationship that they had.
So she flies out today and the son who’s had several back surgeries and experience with an at-home IV will come stay with me a week so we can team up on his sister’s four times a day IV treatments. I spent the weekend getting lots of training on how to do it, so we should be fine. Plus, it’ll be a good time for brother and sister to bond. And I’ll have some long stretches of time to spend with my son, too, so I’m looking forward to that.