pret-a-garbage

sunny, cool, temps 12

Saw my breath for the first time this autumn two days ago. Had that strange moment, as though it had never happened before, of looking at it and thinking, 'What's that?' I actually reminded me, briefly, of my days as a smoker. Here in Canada we all begin to 'smoke' in the fall. Though I remember when I smoked about a pack a day I could be indoors and hold my breath, then strain, and when I opened my mouth smoke would come out....even if I didn't have a cigarette going.

At about that time I began to consider quitting.

The above photo was taken while Michael and I were barbequing - and looking at our breaths. Ironically, there was a breath-taking sight right there. Can you see the rainbow? to the left of the photo...very faint. Stronger in person. Gorgeous.

We're in Montreal...had a few things to attend to yesterday. Heading home now, but stopping off in Granby to take Louise out for lunch. The service is tomorrow morning - small - for family mostly though Louise asked us to be there. Then a lunch at the church all after. We can't make that since I have a book signing for En plein coeur at the fabulous bookstore in Sutton tomorrow. From 1:30 to 3:30...though a newspaper reporter will be meeting me there at 1pm.

We've asked Louise to come to our place after her lunch, to relax. Catch her breath. Then we've organized a celebration of Jacques life tomorrow evening - with pot luck supper. Again, at a local church hall. Lots of loving friends. But exhausting for Louise. This was Jacques wishes, and hers - but tomorrow is just going to be draining for her.

She'll spend the night with us...and she's arranged for a spa day sunday...a form of therapy.

I spent Wednesday packing up and throwing out clothing...sorting what's left into plastic boxes which are now in the basement. Yesterday morning was garbage day. And there were five huge bags waiting for them.

But when I got up and went to get dressed I realized...I have NOTHING to wear. I'd packed up or thrown out everything! The cupboard was bare. And I began to remember all the things I tossed. Things no one else would (or should) wear - but that might be good for one last trip to Montreal.

I could just see rushing out to the curb and going through the garbage bags for that day's wardrobe. Fighting off the garbage men. Dumpster diving for fashion. Never mind good taste - the new criterion will be good smell.

Fortunately before suffering that event (which almost certainly would but a chink in our marriage, though I survive fishing Michael out of the septic tank last year - so he can survive a wife dressed in garbage. What a power-couple we are!) I found something hiding in the bottom of a drawer - quite a nice sweater actually - which people will be seeing quite a bit of over the next few days.

By the way, I'm blogging today over at The Lipstick Chronicles. Visit if you get a chance. it's about jacques and David.

Don't think I'll get a chance to blog tomorrow - but will talk to you on Sunday. have a terrific weekend.

Three hours

rain, heavy at times, humid, temps 25

We spent the morning with Jacques and Louise at the Granby Hospital. Funny, but as soon as we walked through the door into the Palliative Care wing we could feel a peace. Not necessarily a personal peace, but it felt like a sigh. The colours were warm and muted, there was no rush, no bright lights and hubbub. Just calm.

We found Jacques' room. He was asleep. Louise had been there earlier and had gone home for a few minutes. It was just past 9am. Jacques woke up, we sat down, and except for a few trips down to the nearby 'living room' for quiet talks with Louise, we were with Jacques for three hours.

We'd fully expected he'd only be able to stand us for 20 minutes. Indeed, he made it clear he'd tell us when he was getting too tired. We were beyond thrilled when the visit just went on - like a really fine dinner party no one wants to end. Oddly, when Louise (his partner) Michael and I left so he could be bathed - we nipped down to the cafeteria - the priest arrived. And gave Jacques the last rites. When we returned Jacques told us about it. And told the priest that he was born, he was about to die, and he was a peace with that and everything that happened between. But the details were none of the priests business. Apparently the priest laughed and agreed. And said as long as Jacques was at peace, so was he.

But I must say, it gave us all a bit of a turn to hear he'd been given the last rites. Louise and I left the guys alone, and went to the lounge to talk. She's amazing...trying to help Jacques do what he needs to do, and not bring her own fears into it. Time for that later, she said.

And this is where One Day at a Time becomes so much more than a cliche (if it ever was one).

Eventually Jacques remarkable energy waned and it was time to leave. We promised to send postcards from British Columbia. Louise said jacques' only regret is that he never saw the coast of British Columbia. jacques echoed that a few minutes later - and paused...then admitted if that was his only regret it wasn't too bad.

We kissed goodbye, and told each other 'I love you.' And made it out into the hall before bursting into tears.

It was a beautiful three hours.