Month: July 2018

Peter had a rough morning. He is not in any pain but has developed a chest infection and has to be suctioned frequently for him to breathe easily.  That makes him uncomfortable and agitated, despite lots of morphine and other drugs.

I took these pictures of the dogs this morning.  Few things are sadder than three sad dogs.  Actually, that’s not true. Watching my kids watching their dad go through this is the saddest thing I know.  Knowing his mom and sister are in Colorado feeling heartbroken and waiting for a phone call is sad.

Don’t interpret the humor in these posts as levity.  It’s my coping mechanism.  We are all so incredibly sad.

It has been two weeks since Peter’s first seizure. It has been almost a week since he communicated with us.  He has not had food or water since Thursday. It feels as if he is already gone but his body doesn’t know it is supposed to stop. His vital signs are better than mine.

If you are a person who prays, please pray for him to be at peace. If you are not, please squeeze your eyes shut and fervently wish that he lets go soon.

 

 

 

 

 

Peter loves to sail.

He grew up in Miami spending as much time as possible on the water and even sailed a Priam on the little lake behind this house.  (He claims to have water-skied all the way back from Elliot Key as a teenager, but — assuming the story is true — I am pretty sure that must have been a power boat rather than a sail boat).  In the 1990’s he and I spent many days “bombing around the Bay” (as he called it) on his Pacific Seacraft Flicka. We kept “Ilsa” at Dinner Key Marina until she was lost to a hurricane around 2004 (Katrina? Wilma?)

In the spring of 2005, we spent a memorable week aboard a bareboat charter in the British Virgin Islands with Sean and Julia and Jackie and Joe. Peter took pride in the fact that he did not bathe or shower during the entire week. Looking back, that’s probably why the six of us never vacationed together again.

Eli often wears a hand-me-down T-shirt from the Soggy Dollar Bar, so named because you have to anchor out, swim in, and buy your drinks with wet money.

 

 

 

Peter sent me off on a solo vacation to the BVI in 1992 with an outfit called Womanship, where women teach other women to sail. It’s motto is “Nobody Yells.” Our wonderful German friend Ute also tried to teach me to sail.  She didn’t yell either.

 

One of Peter’s favorite adventures was helping to bring Ute’s beloved sailboat “Gone with the Wind” back to Miami from the Bahamas just before Ute passed away in 2009.  Sean, Peter, Frank and Joe found themselves in a serious storm crossing the Gulf Stream, one that has been fodder for tall tales ever since.

Sean bought her from Ute’s daughters and re-christened her “Fiji”. People say it is bad luck to change a boat’s name, but that boat has continued to bring joy to many people, including Peter.  It helps that some of Ute’s ashes remain aboard.

We sailed out of Biscayne Bay Yacht Club many times aboard Monk and Kitty’s “Kit and Kaboodle.”  If we had been able to bottle the laughter and good times we had aboard that boat, we’d have enough to last a lifetime.  Monk and Kitty are Macy and Eli’s godparents.

Last summer we spent a memorable evening aboard the Surprise, a one-hundred year-old schooner that sails out of Camden, Maine. The owner/captain allowed Peter to take the helm and I am not sure I have ever seen him smile so big. Peter was fascinated by the boat’s history and restoration and our beautiful sail around Penobscot Bay with John and Diane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once it became impossible for Peter to board a sailboat, but Gordon and Bridget insisted on getting Peter on the water as much as possible on a yacht where Peter was strapped into the fighting chair (normally used for deep sea fishing). We toured the mansions of Miami Beach many times, to the delight of Michelle and Christen and Charlie and Michelle and Darren, friends who visited from out of town and got to accompany Peter on some memorable sunset cruises.

I don’t quite understand his logic, but Peter got Macy to agree that she would not get any more tattoos for five years if the two of them got one together.  I snapped this photo of his tattoo this morning while his capable and loving British nurse Michelle was giving him a sponge bath. It will be bittersweet to look at Macy’s sailboat long after his is gone.

Origin of: “Fair Winds and Following Seas.”

The origin of the quote “Fair Winds and Following Seas” is unknown. It is often said to have been lifted from a poem, phrase, or literary work, but to the best of this researcher’s knowledge, it wasn’t. Over the last century at least, the two quotes “Fair Winds” and “Following Seas” have evolved, by usage, into a single phrase which is often used as a nautical blessing.

“Fair Winds”: The Dictionary of American Regional English defines “Fair Wind” as “safe journey; good fortune.” An early example of the phrase’s use is in Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, published in 1851, where it says near the end “Let me square the yards, while we may, old man, and make a fair wind of it homeward.” In other words, let me square the yards (add on all sail) and make a safe journey home.

“Following Seas”: Defined by Bowditch’s American Practical Navigator as “A sea in which the waves move in the general direction of the heading.” It further defines “Tide” as “the periodic rise and fall of the water resulting from gravitational interactions between the sun, moon, and earth. . . . the accompanying horizontal movement of the water is part of the same phenomenon.” In simple terms: the movement of the water, the waves, and the surface, correspond with the movement of the tide.

“Fair Winds and Following Seas” is really two quotes originating from different sources. The two quotes are a nautical phrase of good luck–a blessing as it were–as the person, group, or thing it is said to departs on a voyage in life. It is often used at a “beginning” ceremony such as a commissioning ceremony of a ship or people, as well as in retirement, change of command, or farewell ceremonies.

 

 

I’ve had a lot of time sitting here with Peter doing very little. So I googled death and fear. I found lots of quotes. Mainly from Steven Seagal and Tupac Shakur.  Not helpful.

We’ve been taking a lot about death at church lately. This is largely due to Peter’s reflections about it as a progressive Christian and his willingness to share his unique perspective with others. Pastor Laurie gave a sermon inspired by the passage below a few weeks ago.   You can watch the service at the link below.

“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.”

Aaron Freeman

 

 

 

Today we sit with Peter in his childhood bedroom and count our blessings. Among them is that when Peter’s parents were looking for a home in this neighborhood in the 1960’s, his mother Kathryn saw the beauty of this lake and chose this particular house. We sometimes tend to overuse adjectives and superlatives. But I am amazed – truly amazed – that we sit here fifty years later appreciating this lovely view that has given Peter so much pleasure over the years.

Peace.

 

From Julia:

Peter is resting comfortably with his loyal dogs nearby.

Christi is so grateful for the amazing generosity of our family and friends.  Several people have asked how to participate in the online meal train. The link is below.  Postmates gift cards are also helpful to let them order from a restaurant of their choice.

Thank you so much. They are feeling the love.

Postmates     https://postmates.com/gift        christihayes@mac.com

Meal Train.      https://mealtrain.com/k4d4gr

http://www.signature-reads.com/2017/12/10-books-help-face-mortality/

Peter is comfortable.   He has not had a seizure since last Wednesday, although he was agitated and indicating his head ached on Saturday, so he is now heavily sedated. He is being lovingly cared for by Nurse Kightley, who was imported from the UK for that very purpose, and a crew of very capable and caring nurses from hospice.

Yesterday he ate some puréed mango and told me it was a $685 papaya.  I told him it was a free mango but he repeated that it was a $685 papaya. I am trying to decipher that – it’s got to be some sort of code.

The kids are tender and tough and sad and strong. My heart aches that they are losing the dad they love so deeply. My heart swells with pride that they are bravely and lovingly by his side as his body slowly shuts down.