Diffuse

KS is still breathing. Sometimes shallow and fast. Sometimes it sounds like he is sleeping deeply. And there are also moments where the out-breath seems to create bubbles in his chest and it is difficult to inhale. 

There is a diffuser in the room. I put some rose oil in and also frankincense. Both scents he has loved in the past. I hope it isn’t too much. I switch it off regularly and briefly air the room. In the midst of all of this, autumn has arrived and the air outside is chilly. The dispenser changes colour all the time. I think he likes this as he has two lamps like that in his room, the Virtual Vihara room that has stood empty for almost three weeks now. 

It was three weeks ago that we had to go to A&E, were sent back for an apparent false alarm and then had to phone the ambulance early Saturday morning. It has been a traumatic journey since then and I am hoping this stop at the hospice is going to be gentle and soft. But I have learnt that whatever I have been hoping prior to this time, isn’t what is manifesting here and now. I hadn’t expected to feel so awkward and helpless at times, that I would not know what to say, what to do, what the right action would be. But this is what is happening. I may not always get it right, but there is thankfully a lot of help around. I have sat with him, meditated and chanted the long Vajrasattva mantra. But frankly most of the time I hang around, read, talk to people. I think somehow I had expected KS’s dying process to be more in line with his life, his character. But as I am sitting in this hospice full of sounds, busyness, full of kind strangers helping all the way, his worn-out body in the bed sometimes feels quite unfamiliar. I continue eating, sleeping, talking and going for short walks. But his life is approaching its end. How unfathomable. All seems so inadequate. 

KS in Cornwall, 2012, in front of the Merry Maidens. I love this photo of him.