A Thinner Veil

Dear friend,

On one of my very first text exchanges with Chris, he simply wrote, “Love or Duty.” Our conversation grew legs, and we meandered through the peonies and lilies but then saddled our horses and ventured out West to the edge of language. Of course, we marveled at the intricacies of love and agreed love moves mountains. But, as time when by, and we grew into our oneness, we admired the steady hands of the Navy clock which measures the passing of time in a four hour watch, with gongs on the half-hour and eight gongs at the end of four hours; consistency, and the signaling of the beginning and end of a shift. Duty has its merits, too.

Love and duty walk hand in hand now. April 3rd was our final visit to the oncologist. With new growth in two spots on the MRI, the timeline became six months. It looked as if MLTF had been burrowing underground and popped up like voles just in time for Easter. Chris wanted to travel, so his doctor gave the okay based on her assessment at the visit. Dr. Daras said, “do it now because we don’t know where you’ll be physically at the end of June.” NYC had already been planned, so we stayed the course. April 7th, we had booked a river boat cruise to Eastern Europe because it was one of the areas in the world Chris hadn’t experienced, and I was up for anywhere. He wanted one last voyage to live life and to love each other fully.

While I wasn’t entirely sure about the trip, Chris convinced me that he could relax on the boat if he needed to, so we researched the best cafes for Sachertorte.

Four days later, things took a turn, and by April 15th, he went on hospice. It’s been a landslide of movement ever since. Our house has turned into sacred space with family and friends building buttresses of love. At times, I crumble, but then, I see sinewy grown men lean to kiss Chris’ smooth forehead and know God is alive and in our midst among the spires of our cathedral. The tenderness of his sons is touching beyond words, and there are too many acts of affection and special intimate moments to mention.

Today, he started morphine to regulate his breathing. The veil between spaces are thinner, and the gentle whisper of God is growing stronger. It’s only a matter of time.

Much love and Oremus,

Kathryn

*To calm Chris’ terminal agitation during this time, I would start the first line of the Lord’s Prayer. Chris would recite the second, and then, we would alternate.

Our Father which art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day

our daily bread

and forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation

but deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom

and the power and the glory forever and ever.

Amen

This morning, we listened to the birds and started morphine. The veil is getting