Spring and the Moon of Liberation<\/p>\n
Artemis:\u00a0 On the way home<\/p>\n
Tuesday gratefuls: Miralax. Senna. Michigan. Basketball. Baseball. Another tough night. Artemis II. Space. Hubble. Webb.<\/p>\n
Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.<\/p>\n
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Master Travelers<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov.\u00a0 Gratitude.\u00a0 \u201cWho is rich? Those who rejoice in their own portion.\u201d Pirkei Avot (4:1)<\/p>\n
Tarot: paused<\/p>\n
One brief shining: I have been retreating from the world. Lunches and breakfasts are painful due to the head drop. Driving still wears me out though the brace helps. I have new aches and pains. From the cancer? I don’t think so…but.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Since last week I have been constipated. Could be a side effect of the Tramadol. Painful. Unresolved. Some progress. Miralax to 2x a day. Add senna.<\/p>\n
Went to bed. Early. 6 pm. Exhausted by the demands of the day. Slept well until 1 am. After that. Left side. Right side. Stomach. Back. Repeated and repeated and repeated. Could not find the sleep switch. Up at 3:30 am. Rested. Sorta. Residual aches. Sore back.<\/p>\n
A learning about death. You stop. Everything else goes on.\u00a0 Cars queue up behind a red turn signal. A group of preschoolers, all holding on to the same rope. Going to the park. Shadow circles her food bowl, waiting on you to come home. As you always have. Not this time.<\/p>\n
The damnable ordinariness. Years of loving, talking, reading, all made moot. When Kate died her brilliant mind went silent. All her experience as a doctor. A lover. A quilter. Gone.<\/p>\n
Yet. Artemis II took three Americans and one Canadian further from Earth than any human has gone before. Michigan beat UConn to reclaim the Men’s NCAA tournament.<\/p>\n
I had my aspirations as a young man. Stop the war.\u00a0 Raise a son. As I worked, people died every day. Good people. Kind people. Their ends did not register in my life. Their momentous parting, everything for them, was nothing to me.<\/p>\n
In life I can fight, love. In death I cannot.<\/p>\n
Yet I no longer privilege one over the other. When the reaper comes, the fruits of a long and interesting life will gather into my body, then disperse. To create new molecules, new lung tissue, new fingernails.<\/p>\n
On these bad days–pain, constipation–I wonder: Is this how the final exit goes. Pain and discomfort. Then, surcease. I hope not. I would prefer to die quietly, surrounded by friends and family, Shadow by my side.<\/p>\n
I do not mind dying. Not sooner than necessary. But when it is time. Yes. I take that long last ride.<\/p>\n
When it happens, a fisherman catches a bass. A couple will make love and create a new human. I will have gone on ahead.<\/p>\n
Stop a moment.
\nPause.
\nSay good-bye.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Spring and the Moon of Liberation Artemis:\u00a0 On the way home Tuesday gratefuls: Miralax. Senna. Michigan. Basketball. Baseball. Another tough night. Artemis II. Space. Hubble. Webb. Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names. Sparks of Joy and Awe: Master Travelers Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov.\u00a0 Gratitude.\u00a0 \u201cWho is rich? Those who rejoice in their own portion.\u201d … Continue reading Pause. Say Good-bye<\/span>