On hold

My normal routines are on hold. Wayne died on Wednesday afternoon at home, in his bed, surrounded by his three children, Shannon, and some close friends. My hand on his chest, I felt him breathe for the last time.

As you can probably imagine, I’m a bit off-kilter, discombobulated, jittery. After days of being on call for Shannon, storing a sleeping bag and pillow in the van, passing off the kids to Mr. Handsome, my sister-in-law, my mother, sleeping on Shannon’s sofa, sitting for hours on the floor of their bedroom, watching Wayne’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall, waiting, waiting, waiting… I feel raw.

The funeral is Monday. After that, life will get back to normal, I suppose, though I’m not sure what that means. Maybe I’ll cook again. Maybe we’ll finish up the kids’ schooling…or maybe not. Maybe I’ll have the emotional wherewithal to sift through my experiences and organize them into coherent thoughts. Maybe I’ll fly sky-high with relief. Maybe I’ll crash. I don’t know.

In the meantime, I’m shopping for funeral clothes with Shannon, accompanying her (with a couple other friends) to the funeral home, the graveside, the church. In between times, we hang out at her house, make plans, chit-chat, joke, cry. It’s a special time. Not easy, but special. I’m honored to be included.


  • All Adither

    Is this really my first time visiting your blog? Your writing is stunning. The image and quote in your banner are perfect. And you…you seem like the most lovely friend and human.

  • Cookie baker Lynn

    Hugs for you, Shannon, and the kids. I pray that God would swiftly move you beyond the place of pain to the place of gratefulness for having known Wayne.

  • Camille

    Powerful moments these! May God give the grace day by day and moment by moment to you as the friend of Shannon…and to Shannon and her children as they go on without Wayne. What a blessing to be included…it is a sacred thing to be a part of. I will be praying for you and the rest of the friends, and of course, Shannon and the kids.


  • KTdid

    Death, like birth, is so elemental and so monumental, as well. I only know of what you speak because of spending the night beside my mother (holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall) as she died. When you witness death like that, things are written on your heart that were never there before.

    My sincere sympathy to you, Shannon, and her family.


  • Sarah

    Bless you for being such a sweet friend to your friend Shannon. I can't imagine all that you are going through with her right now. I pray that you feel tremendous peace right now that overcomes the questions and pain.

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