Alive

Last night was a late night. We had a big family dinner planned, with eleven places set. June and Jay came down, Michael cooked. We had candles lit and wine poured. We had beer in tall glasses and sparkling cider for the kids. The menu was the fantastic and super simple - campfire chicken, with a tossed salad, home made biscuits, and a sampler of baked goodies for dessert. I thought I would have tons of pictures to share, and lots of stories to tell.

Instead, the kids got a sudden call and needed to head off to their father's house (my ex-husbands) for a meeting. Odd, right? ADR and AMA hopped in her car and took off. Ry took the kids out back to kick around a ball - I think they were playing foursquare. Inside, we poured another glass of wine and kept on prepping dinner, taking the biscuits out of the oven and putting salads and dressings on the table. Just before calling the kiddos into the house my cell phone rang.

"Hello?"
"momma" sniffle, sob...
"Honey?"
mumble mumble murple blumfph.

I walked in to the bedroom and closed the door.
"What?"
"He has a week, momma."
"What?"
"A week to live."
"ohmygod. ohmygod. I am so sorry, baby. I am so sorry."

I sat down hard on the chair, unbidden tears springing to my eyes. We had a life together once. He is the father of my children. And my children are overwhelmed with grief.

I want to believe that where there is life there is hope. I tell the kids to hold on to hope.

Today, kidney function is decreasing. Today, he can not breathe unassisted. Today, conflict and sadness.