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I’m so very glad that John and Jerry were able to come to see Don in the hospital before he died. It was beautiful to watch his face light up when I told him his brothers were there to see him. They stayed for two days, and Don passed away very soon after they left. It was as if he was given the grace to hold on until they got there.
Being with Don was my favorite place to be, and he really broadened my life. He pushed me to try things I never even wanted to do, and things I was afraid to do, and he wouldn’t let me play the “helpless female.” Eventually I realized that he was paying me the great compliment of believing me to be as capable as he was. I had always been deathly afraid of water, but he taught me to sail Esprit de Mer on a three-week voyage around the San Juan Islands, and during our trip I was exhilarated over and over by new experiences, and especially by my new confidence on the boat. He taught me to snorkel in Mexico, and when I saw the incredible beauty hidden below the water surface, it was just literally breathtaking. I mean literally: I was so thrilled that I tried to jump up and hug him and nearly drowned both of us! Those two experiences were landmarks in my life that I’ll always treasure.
Don taught me to shoot a rifle and pistol accurately, to can venison, to milk goats and to make soap, to live within our means, and to appreciate the riches of living simply and respectfully on the eland. One of my favorite memories is of the time w were sitting on tree stumps in the snow, plucking and dressing chickens, while listening to a book on tape of Cadfael, a Masterpiece Theatre production about a medieval monk who was a combination herbalist/detective. I said to Don, “I’ll bet there’s not another person on Earth who is doing what we are doing right now!”
Caring for Don these past several years was a deeply challenging and humbling experience and one I would not have missed for the world. It seems that as the strokes took away layer after layer of his abilities, they also revealed more and more of his inner self, and I was so thankful to be with him, to care for all his needs and to love him with my actions as well as my heart. One day not long before he died, he looked at me and said, “You must get so tired of taking care of me.” I said, “I do get tired FROM taking care of you, but I never get tired OF taking care of you.” In those last few months, his yes became so clear and pure, so innocent and trusting, that I felt blessed just to look at him. I will never forget him.