In the bleak midwinter

^a photo from last night’s dragon boating

 A lot has happened in the last two weeks. My housemate got covid (mild) and I evacuated to higher ground to mates who I know through Whangarei connections (of all things!). A lovely Devon/Scottish couple who eat off tartan crockery that was given to them at their wedding in abundance, and they use every day in the hopes that it increases the chance of them smashing. Except it’s fairly robust. And the tartan is growing on them. Both are doctors of other specialities and their work rants were refreshing. R would practise the cello and J would fall asleep on the couch like a big cat.

I digress.

Some mates of mine from Auckland returned to Devon in a hurry, to be with their dying father (/father in law). Visiting hours meant that his own wife could only visit an hour a day when he was in hospital. And she was his only permitted visitor. I would sneak onto the ward in plain sight (with my scrubs, with my name tag) and sit with him when I could. Flickering for a moment on perspectives on the place I work. Seeing just how overrun things are.

Nurses are amazing.

I hadn’t met him before all this; I had vaguely known my friend’s folks lived nearby but had forgotten. 

He is a man who saved my friends life; a step dad who stepped in, stepped up. Constant and brave in his work, in his life, and now; when I met him, in his dying. He would pray with such calmness whilst not being super spiritual. He was scared, but he trusted God not to leave him alone in his pain or his fear. 

He’s at home now. And there’s a good chance even as I write this he will slip away. I hope and pray the sleeping, the slipping, will be like a boat pushed gently out onto the water. I know it isn’t always the case, and I worry for him.

I had hoped to see him again. 

It all feels like a warm conversation interrupted. 

But I’m glad I got to start one with him.