We're getting toward the end here.
Five years ago today, Art told me that for the first time he felt like he could just go to sleep and not wake up - and he told me that was okay.
Because of a bowel obstruction, Art couldn't eat anything or drink much. He was getting so weak that he had muscle spasms from trying to hold his head up.
Art had been doing counted cross stitch for years and he had been working on a huge project for our daughter and it dawned on him, this day five years ago, that he wouldn't be finishing it. He was spending time reading his Bible and listening to music. The pastor had visited and they had planned a funeral.
We had our first visit from hospice. There was a tiny bottle of medicine and we were told exactly how little would do what - and then we were told that the nurse that would come after he died would take the bottle and dump it - and never look at how much (or how little) was left.
We live in the city where a minor league hockey team plays and the general manager was a member at our church. He stopped by and dropped off an envelope and said that he didn't know what else he could do - so he gave us tickets to a finals game of the playoffs. We had a couple that we were close to who were huge hockey fans and they took the kids. It was things like this that really touched us.
But five years ago right now, we were in "waiting mode"