Relinquishing my husband’s body

Fatima, the lead nurse at Robert’s care home, called to tell me that Robert had died. 

I stood stock-still in the middle of my living room, stunned into silence. My face flushed, then froze. I could hear the clock on the bookshelf ticking. Had the clock always been so loud? Why was my dog cocking her head at me like that? Had my face disappeared?

What did you say?

I couldn’t understand what Fatima had said. How could Robert be dead? Our daughter, Maddie, and I had been with him just a few hours before. We had worked with the hospice nurse to make him comfortable and we had made plans for tomorrow. We had just gone home to rest and recuperate from our emotionally wrenching afternoon. Robert wasn’t supposed to die today.

“Aimee went to check on him for her 8 pm rounds and found that he was not breathing.”

He had died alone. My heart broke again.

Fatima gently continued. “The hospice nurse is on her way. Would you like to see Robert before his body is removed?” 

The sadness accelerates

My phone rang again. 

“This is Benson with LifeCare Hospice. Is this Sharon Kirk?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry to have to tell you that your husband, Robert, has passed away.” 

I already knew this. Why was this annoying Benson person calling to tell me this again?

“We are sending a hospice nurse to Gardenia Place. She will complete the necessary paperwork to confirm that Robert has passed away. Would you like to sit with Robert until his body is removed?” 

He spoke in an irritating, fake sad voice. He didn’t know Robert. This was actually sad, not pretend sad. I willed him to shut up.

“Yes. Thank you,” I intoned.

“I am very sorry for your loss. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

I wanted to scream. Do you hear yourself?! You just told me my husband has died! What can you possibly do?! Can you take me back in time to be with him in his final moment?  

Instead, I said, “No. Thank you.”

Where are the kids?

I called Maddie. 

“Honey, Dad has died.”

She let out a plaintive gasp, “What? We were just there.”

“I know. Fatima called. Hospice is on its way to declare Robert’s death. Please go over to Gardenia Place. Please call Jackson and let him know. I am leaving now. I will meet you there.”

My mind separated from my body. I watched my numb, zombie gait as I made my way to my car.

The phone rang again. It was Jackson. He was in tears.

“Mom, I thought Dad was okay when you and Maddie left him. I just wished him a happy birthday three days ago.”

“I know. Honey, I’m so sorry.” Pause. “I’m on my way to sit with him until the mortuary transport team arrives to pick up his body.”

“Should I come home now?”

“No. Let us figure out what’s going to happen next and then you can make arrangements to fly out of Chicago.”

“OK. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.”

Fatima greeted me at the door. Her bright, pink bunny pajamas belied the sadness of the moment. Her face was drawn. She cared for Robert. His passing hurt her too. She hugged me. I hung my head over her tiny frame and sobbed. Aimee stood in the corner of the entryway, head down, uncomfortable and forlorn. Her English language skills were not good but grief is recognizable anywhere.

Fatima led me to Robert’s room. Maddie and Trent were already there. Maddie’s face was a splotchy mess of tears and anguish. They were sitting some distance from Robert’s body. His face was covered. 

Maddie spoke. “I couldn’t look at him, Mom. I don’t want to remember him that way.”

“Yes, I understand,” I said. I lifted the navy blanket covering his withered frame. I wanted to see him again.

My beautiful husband

Robert’s face was harrowed and sharp. When his heart stopped beating, all the blood drained from his features. His skin became yellow and shinypallor mortis, pulled taut across his bones, the tapered edge of his nose clearly defined. I marveled absently at the beautiful skeleton underneath his skin. I kissed him on the forehead.

His mouth was open. He looked frightened like he was struggling to breathe. My stomach churned with regret. I had so wanted him to pass peacefully. (I have since learned that when a person dies, the muscles in their body relax. Their jaw may go slack, causing their mouth to open.)

I sat down next to Robert and held his hand. It was still warm. How could he be gone when his body was still warm? I stroked his body and felt the familiar swell of his rib cage and the gentle drop to his abdomen. I sat and wrapped my arm around his. The skin on his arm was slack. He was so very frail.

Go in peace, my love

I whispered to him, “Maddie, Trent, and I are here with you. Jackson is in Chicago, but he will be home soon. I’m sorry we were not here when you passed away, honey.” Pause. “You did everything you were supposed to in this life. I hope you are in a better place now.”

Robert believes in another life after this one. I told him that we would take care of preparing his body for the transition to the next world. His soul could leave when he was ready.

Holly, the on-call hospice nurse, quietly entered the room, introduced herself, and explained what would happen next.

“You can stay as long as you like. I will call the mortuary when you are ready.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you stay while Robert’s body is removed?”

“What do people usually do?” I asked.

“It’s very personal. Some people find it upsetting to see their loved one strapped to a gurney and taken out of the home.”

“I’ll stay.”

Maddie agreed. “We’ll stay too.”

“You can call the mortuary now.”

Final goodbyes

About an hour later, the mortuary transport team of two large attendants dressed in navy jumpsuits arrived. The clanging of the gurney rolled into position was jarring in the quiet evening, but the mortuary attendants were efficient and respectful. They tenderly wrapped Robert’s body and lifted him onto the bed of the gurney. 

We followed the attendants as they made their way to the transport van parked in the guest lot on the still cul de sac. The night was a clear, cool 64 degrees.

We stood at the end of the driveway as we had done earlier in the day when Robert was still alive. Fatigue washed over me. We watched the attendants lift Robert’s gurney into the van. The doors clanged shut, a sharp echo in the air.

Maddie and I held each other and wept.

Goodbye, dear Robert. We will miss you forever.