Last Breath

Last Breath
By: Kate Swaffer

Remember when the time comes
To breath in very deep
Take my very last breath
And make it your own

This poem was written by my blogger friend from Australia in her book of poetry Love, Life, Loss: A Roller-Coaster of Poetry. Of all her wonderful poetry, this poem moved me the most when I read it several months before Gregory died. 

The day before he died, after three days of his being in a non-responsive state, I kissed him three times on his open mouth and on the third kiss, he kissed me back.

A short while after he died the next day at 12:04 on Sunday, October 4, 2015, I sat with his beautiful body and told him everything I needed to say. I held his still warm hand. Before leaving, I kissed his open, cold mouth and I breathed as deeply as I could. 

He smelled of the sweet Gregory I have loved for forty years and will love for the rest of my life. He has been, is, and will always be part of me in so many ways.

His ashes sit in his Grandma Carrie's sewing box which lives on my bedroom bookcase and his breath lives within me.

Gregory at The Kellogg Forest By: Colleen Maire

I loved to go for walks with you.  It didn't matter where we walked, it just mattered.   A teacher, a mentor, a friend.  So full of knowledge, so willing to share, so calming to the soul.  I learned so much from you about life and love. You taught me that life is here in every step and to savor it.  I honored your physical presence last weekend at Kellogg Forest.  Thank you for guiding me to take the path to the left.  The sun was with me the entire way which only heightened the experience.  I hope you had as much fun as I did.  I love you.  

Welcome Home

Picking up Gregory's ashes was easier than I thought it would be. Accompanied by our long, long time friend (I'd call him an old friend but that would be true both ways;-) John Hnilicka, we went to the Cremation Society of Illinois' beautiful victorian apartment building (ironically with an insurance company on the same floor) on Addison Street in the "Boy's Town" neighborhood.

After presenting my driver's license to prove who I was (I could have told them!) I received several copies of Gregory's death certificate, the memory cards we had printed, and last, but not least, Gregory's ashes. I say not least because of the heaviness in receiving them. I do not mean emotional heaviness but rather ounce and pound heavy.

I wanted a quiet moment, placed my hand on top of the handmade paper covered with dried fall leaves box, and as an acknowledgement of the reality of it all; lovingly, gently, picked up the box. Holy SHIT! He is (was) one heavy Fucker! (Cremation humor ;-)  The box really was quite heavy. It felt between 5 and 10 pounds.

Brook had explained earlier that "Ashes" is not really what they are but rather more like a fine sand. (I have not yet looked at them.) In the olden days there was the carbon and left over bone fragments, not necessarily completely cremated. (Hope I'm not grossing you out.) Now days, the cremation process is so sophisticated (including "Green" machines) that the nature of the "Ashes" is different than it was in the past.

To celebrate, after picking up Gregory, John and I went out to an excellent dinner and attended a Broadway musical, the tickets of which we had bought more than a month ago, called: "A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder." The show was magical, brilliant, and a romp! Gregory stayed behind safely in the trunk.

When I arrived back at the condo around 11:00 PM, I opened the trunk saying, "Hello Honey," and put Gregory, resting safely comfortably in Grandma Carrie's sewing box, in my arms and carried him over the threshold into our home saying, "Welcome home my love."

I placed the box on his side of the bed as I got ready to go to sleep. The cats, Emma and Gigi, visited with him a while, lost interest, and went on to have some more "Paw Likin' Chicken." Isaac, God Son, came in and gave his "Welcome Home" to Gregory.

I placed the box back on the bedroom bookshelf where it had been kept during Gregory's tenure in the condo, back in place again, and wished Gregory another "Welcome home ... and goodnight."

I didn't know how I was going to handle all this but as I said, it was easier than I thought. Instead of the frightening, sad, morbid, disgusting, macabre; I was happy to have him home with me, all his troubles behind him, me ready to grieve and move on.

Having Gregory's ashes helped complete the process and experience of his death and I am feeling a sense of closure to this chapter and am eagerly looking forward to the next.

Sound Bite: I know that there is a cloud still following me and every now and then, when least expected, it will make my eyes rain. But that is OK and Gregory will be my umbrella.

I slept very peacefully.

The Sewing Box and The Sponge Bath

Hi Barbara,

Picking up his ashes yesterday was not as hard as I thought. Gregory is gently resting in the sewing box of his Grandma Carrie, his father’s mother. 

Gregory tells the story of how sorry he was that he was not able to see her when she died and was not able to go to her funeral because he was across the country at school.

He tells of their time together on overnight visits when he was a young boy, when they would sit on the font porch of her house, across the street and a little way down from the Goshen, Indiana court house. 

Gregory loved to play by the court house, walking up and down the grand stairs, and balancing his way around the building on the first floor parapet. 

They would watch the sun go down, and the cars go by, and talk of things. They would always have popcorn for dinner and oatmeal for breakfast. 

She was either poor enough or stingy enough (and probably a little crazy enough) to not bother wanting to light the water heater. She would boil a pot of water, let it cool down, and instruct Gregory how to take a “Navy Bath,” also known as a sponge bath. 

She would instruct Gregory saying, “First you wash as far up as possible, then you wash as far down as possible, then you wash possible.” 

I had ordered a bio-degradable box covered in handmade paper with dried fall leaves affixed to it. For me it was the best of the available choices (and there were many.) 

The night after making his arrangements with The Cremation Society of Illinois, I was sitting in the kitchen folding dusting rags (just realized the significance of “dust to dust”) and it came to me (might you say insight or might you say Gregory or Carrie whispering to me?) that I could use Grandma Carrie’s sewing box for Gregory’s ashes. 

And so the beautiful handmade paper box is now lovingly placed in Carrie’s sewing box and they are both resting peacefully. He loved her very much and is happy to know that his resting place, for now, is with her.

P.S. This will be today’s post that was written especially for you and Les.