Join Holly as she searches east Auckland for love and connection.
In which Holly discovers a true love story.
We’re bombarded by love stories, filled with sunsets, roses and worn-out cinematic tropes.
We’re told that love happens to attractive under-35s who overcome some minor setback to their union, then live happily ever after.
We’re told that love stories are about genesis, not grief – that love is about falling, not hanging on… or letting go.
Reader, I’m honoured to share a small part of a true love story with you today, in the form of 11 notes by Cath.
Email holly@times.co.nz
Yours in love,
Holly
Cath: I’ve taken the weekend off from visiting Tony. Yesterday I went shopping with a friend.
Today, Alan and I are going to an orchid show then lunch. When I rang Tony yesterday afternoon, he’d been deeply asleep and thought it was 4am.
Rang Tony at 6pm. Woke him up from a deep sleep. Said he slept through dinner, has slept all day but “feels good”.
Sounded like he was struggling to stay awake to talk. Said I’d be in tomorrow. Why? I’ll be at work.
Turns out he’s lost a day or two, thought tomorrow was still the weekend.
Tony’s been on antibiotics for five days. The infection’s worse. Multiple infection sites on bad foot now. No more oral antibiotics to try.
Today he was confused, didn’t eat breakfast/morning tea. When I popped in again later, he was on the floor after sliding out of the Lazyboy. Who knows what’s next?
Tony’s more confused today than yesterday, then suddenly seemingly lucid. Poor muscle control, twitchy, so spilling his drinks.
We’re having some hilarious conversations. The game show host is a b*tch because she left the room when we needed help… umm, sure. Lots of conspiratorial whispering.
He’s barely drinking, only eating if prompted. I’ve asked that they let him stop if he doesn’t want to bother.
They’re trying to judge when he looks uncomfortable to give extra pain relief, rather than relying on him to ask, or trusting his answers as they’re increasingly random.
I don’t ring in the evening now but pop in for an extra visit on my way home.
Staff said tonight “you don’t have to, you know, it’s okay.”
I said, “I know but I want to, we’re devoted to each other. I won’t miss this, hard as it is. He always said he wants me with him at this point.” Love remains.
Tony’s confused, even roamed the rest home looking for me despite how frail he is.
Two new black spots on bad foot. We think it’s gangrene starting. Looks like his body isn’t able to fight.
I hope it overwhelms his system quickly because he’s so very uncomfortable all the time and there’s no other end.
I’m going to keep talking about Tony and our journey. As a society, we’re inclined to sanitise end of life, which means we go into this half blind.
It isn’t pretty or easy… but it’s life happening.
With everything going on I’m keeping a very tight rein on my emotions during the day.
Getting my work done, looking after Tony. Some nights, once the house is quiet and the lights are out, I have a little weep.
I’m going to be sad when he dies but also relieved. It’s been a long journey.
I’ve packed a small journal, pencil, pen and a selection of watercolour crayons so I can keep my hands busy when I’m with Tony today.
Just sitting there with nothing to fiddle with is torture.
Tony’s confusion was more subtle today, apart from a giraffe round the corridor with a bunch of bananas!
Some of the long rambling stuff reminded me of a drunk toddler. He’s needing more pain relief, and the discolouration is slowly spreading.
As I left this afternoon, he said “I love you”.
