Hugs. He hugs his sister, Betty and his Dad this morning. I think his Dad is the last one to show up for this family reunion. I’m so glad to witness his presence. Yesterday was brother, Billy, and Sue & Jack.The day before, deceased sons-in-law, Michael and Howard. His mother hovers near most of the time.
His soldiers have gathered around him for weeks (he has talked about 150 men in the platoon and 50 rangers) showing him there is no death. Welcoming him home.
He ceases breathing and I count heart beats. Sometimes 6, sometimes 26. Deep breathe. Another. Another. Long hug.
He is quiet. I’m imagine he’s gone on another cigarette break.
Until a few days ago, he was often concerned about our little dog who has lymphoma cancer. One day he asked, “Where is the dog?”
I answered him, “He’s in the living room, sleeping.”
“No he’s not; he’s dead.” He told me imfaticaly.
“I’ll go get him.” I reassured him.
Returning with the dog, I placed his front paws next to Mike’s arm. “Here he is.”
“Well that SOB lied to me. He told me my dog was dead.” He exclaimed.
I don’t believe Mike has questioned where the dog is, since.
But the dog, Jubal, has paced the house relentlessly. He definitly knows something is amiss. I suspect he is aware of all the spirits floating in and out.
This morning a bluejay sat in the oaktree outside Mike’s screen door. He screamed over and over again. Quite astounded, Emy and I looked at each other as the bird screamed, “Come on! Come on!”
Mike mumbled, “Birds. Birds.” He heard the call. But he’s not quite ready. I’d say he probably has about a pack of cigarettes left.
