"No," we both answer at the same time, but don't say anything else.
"She's already got a bunch and she can't have anymore," Che emphatically concludes!
Shaking our heads, Sarah and I lock eyes, stifle a laugh and the two leave to take Lainey for a walk.
Collapsing on the sofa, I wonder how long my tee shirts will last with the girls? It delights me to imagine them still wearing them years from now, and I smile.
The time's come when I'm very aware it's all coming to an end, and am still determined to squeeze every ounce of living out of my dying, in real time.
Most seem to do it the other way, focusing on dying at the expense of living in the moment.
Sarah tells me she thought I only died twice last night. In both instances, I stopped breathing so she sleepily yet worried like Hell, sits up to watch me, and after prolonged pauses, I inhale again.
"Only two?" I ask.
And Sarah laughs enticing me to join her.
"It's a great day to not die!" we conclude.
While they're still walking Lainey, I reflect on the only legacy I'll leave when I die.
A windowed single Mom and an 8 year old daughter.
There comes a time when you feel like you're holding them back, and it's better to move on, so that they can move on.
I feel these things deeply.
Our world has become tiny, consumed entirely with caregiving from Sarah and Che. Things like work, a social life, eating (together, or at all), hosting playdates are now big challenges.
Sarah and I remain focused on Che maintaining a happy little girl's normalcy, as we truly delight in each other, spending our days locked inside our bubble.
When visitors come, it normally wrecks us, throwing off the sacred routines that've gotten us this far, I usually end up sick afterwards and the girls time and energy that we don't have.
Besides, it's frustratingly hard to squeeze a year, not to mention all of the emotions, into an hour visit, that sometimes leads to depressing thoughts, so we're very guarded. We're also anticipating what's next.
If I ever go back to the Hospital, I'm Door Dashing the whole stay!
Hospital food is the most expensive ever, and you'd think it would be good for how much we pay for it but, of all the times I've been served, either breakfast right before lunch or dinner at 4 pm, I don't remember a single damn meal. I'm never doing that again.
Mostly, we live in the moment, as best we can.
I celebrate what I've got as I've got it because that's all I really have now.
Every day I wake up, I recognize it as the gift it is!
And every single gift is different.
They'll never be another like it.
We're so thankful, we have another today.
*******
My Celebration of Life delightfully lingers but is coming to an end. Help me make sure Sarah and Che will be fine without me.
Please consider being part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b
