A Fellow Foodie

The morphine, doing its job, made her oblivious to the sounds of her own labored breathing as the oxygen tank awaited the last intake. She looked so serene, her face somehow taking on a much younger countenance as Carol and I, holding her hands, softly encouraged her to step across the threshold into the light.
Carol knew when the time was near as the breathing transformed into this strange act of biting the air.
And then it stopped.
I watched her die in her own regal bed with a canopy and soft drapes cascading down.

Now, four weeks later, I'm back, helping clean up and clean out her lovely little home, overlooking the lake with black swans out front, preening themselves.

I didn't know her nearly long enough, having been called to be one of many caregivers late in her hospice care. She was so brave, refusing pain meds til the very end, as congestive heart failure had its way with her. But the time I shared with this fellow foodie was filled with talks of travel, past dinner parties, favorite recipes, cookbook readings, album sharing, and tastes of ceviche, artichokes, fettuccine, coneys, sauerkraut with chicken , posole with all the trimmings, tiramisu, and so much more... Spread out over several Thursday's ...the day it was my job to make her happy.

I loved that woman. I loved that job. And I'm pretty sure that from April 14 through June 30, for four hours every Thursday, I made her as happy as she made me.

Marni Rosno