Christmas Eve

Last night was awful.  John woke up about 2:30 and couldn't go to sleep.  He got up and went to the couch.  That didn't help so he started his laps around the inside of the house.  He had taken ibuprophen or tylenol p.m. or something around 12:30 and didn't want to take anything else.  I walked laps with him, talking all the while, for about 15 minutes.  He tries to wear himself out doing it.  Then we went in the kitchen and he ate a bowl of cereal; back to the couch.  Tummy full, tired from walking.  It took until 4:30 then we slept fairly well.

Today John had even more trouble holding his spoon and fork.  He can't see what he's putting on the utensil when he uses his right hand, plus it's getting lazier.  It's equivolent to using his left hand; the right is weak and the left is not used to being utilized.  It takes him a long time to eat a meal.  But eat, he can.

One of the 'grandmas' down the street came over with a couple from church.  They brought pound cake, 2 kinds of fruit cakes, [about 10 slices total], candy, fudge, cookies, pecans, pickles, and chicken tetrazini.  Oh, and oranges.  I think that's all!  John hit the chicken tet 3 times today.  He loved it.  And has eaten 3 oranges, although I have to peel them.  We had a good visit with the trio.  "Grandma" has lived here a long time and knew some history on our house.  The man who built it was Jefferson, so it's called the Jefferson House.  He owned a furniture store; had a wife.  The sun room used to be an open front porch.  The rest of the house is original, one of the largest in town at that time.  

I spent several hours in the yard today for the first time in a while.  It felt wonderful to cut limbs, pull weeds, mulch leaves and put them in beds.  The weather was cool and slightly overcast...perfect for yard work.  The neighborhood animals all passed through at some point.  The dogs were looking for John because he gives them treats, and gave up on me pretty quick and went home.  

Had my first really good cry.  Hospice gave us a book about the steps of dying, and at the end is a short piece about how death is like a ship disappearing from your view.  It's still there for someone else to see, carrying its cargo just as it was when you last saw it, but it's now out of your sight.  John keeps telling me that, and I know it, because all people will live forevermore, either with God or separated from him, but living nonetheless.  I will see John again one day.  But I really don't want him to go at all.  He's snoring on the couch right now and it's music to my ears.  Looking forward to going to my parents tomorrow for Christmas and spending the night with everyone.  Won't be spending the night with Marshall tonight as I always have, but that's ok.  Next year.  

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.