Jan Needs Me Now!
Estimated reading time: 14 minutes, 3 seconds
Hospice in Brooklyn
“She is here,” I shouted. I looked around at how the parlor had been rearranged so the hospital bed could fit. Jan had started the year on the rebound and presumably cancer free. Two lengthy hospitalizations, a recurrence of Lymphoma, and COVID led the doctors to recommend hospice care. Sam and Jack opposed using our home for Jan’s hospice care, but I could convince them as one of the three owners.
As Jan was placed into the hospital bed, I greeted her with, “Welcome to our home.”
“Thanks.”
I responded with quick introductions, “This is my daughter Sam, my son-in-law Jack and my granddaughter Janice.”
“When we met, we called each other Sam and Jack. Not sure why anymore.” Breathing rapidly, Jan looked at me and asked, “Do you remember why?”
I avoided the question and tried to focus on making her comfortable.
Jack and Sam helped adjust the bed and rearrange the pillows.
“We are pleased we could offer you our home for hospice care,” Jack stated as he got the last pillow in the correct location.
Sam smiled faintly as she was still not pleased I had made the offer to Jan.
Janice, however, seemed comfortable despite her anxiety about having someone in the house who would die here when we had breakfast.
“Can I have a glass of water with crushed ice?”
All four of us started moving to the kitchen.
“How many people does it take to get a glass of iced water,” asked Janice.
Everyone, including Jan, laughed, and the tension that had consumed the room’s air dissipated.
“I will get the water; I know how she likes it,” I announced.
“Jack and I need to pick up a few items we will need.”
In the kitchen, I took a glass, held it under the dispenser on the refrigerator, and filled it with crushed ice.
I heard Jan ask my granddaughter if the photos of her on the mantle were all they had.
“The mantle has been that way since I was born,” Janice stated. “I grew up wondering who the person was. When they told me the name and realized it was the same as mine, I started believing it was an imaginary friend of my grandpa’s.”
I heard Jan sigh. “I am genuine, and your grandpa has been a real saint to me since I was diagnosed with cancer.”
“Yes, you are, but why did you leave my grandpa?”
I paused in the kitchen, not wanting to avoid hearing Jan’s answer.
“I was young, and sometimes we make decisions that are not easy to explain to a child your age.”
“I understand more than you know. I have to deal with the drama of middle school.”
The conversation in the parlor paused, and I slowly filled the glass with water.
“I want to know why you left him. Was it because you did not love him?”
“I loved him, but sometimes that is not enough. I wish I could do it over….”
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
