I’m sad to publicly report (finally) that Ben Taylor lost his years’ long battle against cancers (plural) on June 21st.

 

Lisa and I knew it was coming, and we’ve been preparing for it emotionally and physically, moving his stuff out of his apartment at Lakewood Meadows, where he spent the last three months of his life, not counting the 40 days that he was in the hospital.

 

It has been strange going there the last few times. While he was alive, it felt like we were doing it to help him.  Following his passing,  it feels like we’re doing it just because it needs to be done…

 

I packed everything into boxes except for the few pieces of large furniture. (Lisa has been working six day weeks, and I had plenty of time to proactively work the plan, so that’s what I did). Lisa had her carpets cleaned professionally a couple days ago, so we could drive Ben’s stuff over to her place where she will slowly go through it to see what she needs or wants to keep so the rest can be donated or trashed.

 

The project so far has taken just four trips in our vans (one mile each way), not counting the furniture. Ben’s kitties will come out last, today, with the last piece of furniture. I will take Miss Kitty; she will take Sherman. The kitties are rightly concerned about the many changes in their apartment, which is nearly empty now. Today they will be able to figure it out.

 

LAST VISIT

 

As luck/fate/fortune would have it, on June 20th while we were at lunch, I suggested that we stop by the hospital (although it is not accepting visitors due to a COVID outbreak inside) just to stand outside his window and send him “We love you” hand gestures while having a nurse hold a phone to his ear so we could say a few words and send our love. Lisa thought that was a great idea, since we haven’t been able to go inside for ten days (or more) because of the outbreak.

 

When we got there, we called inside and, after waiting a few minutes, nurses poured into Ben’s room to rouse him from a profound slumber so he could see that we were there. The only thing he was able to say over the phone to Lisa was, “I love you”.  Then his doctor came outside to say Lisa could come inside and be with him for a few minutes. I knew then (even before then, actually, by the way he looked) that his passing was imminent.

 

While Lisa went inside, I drove to Ben’s apartment to finish up loading miscellaneous items into about eight large boxes and placing them onto two dollies.

 

Soon after that, Lisa arrived looking downcast. I knew she had probably been told about how tentatively Ben was holding onto life, so she got busy washing a few dishes and then we went to her place to tidy up the living room (her former roommate hadn’t moved completely out yet and the living room was strewn with stuff that still needed to go) so she could move around without tripping over stuff and so there was as much a semblance of “normalcy” as possible at a time like this.

 

I vacuumed her living room and hallway after we placed all the miscellaneous stuff into the ex-roommate’s bedroom. By the time I left that afternoon, she had a wide open living room, so she walked over to see if she could get a recommendation for a carpet cleaner from the apartment complex manager. She wanted to get the carpets cleaned before we moved the stuff over from Ben’s that she wants to keep or needs to go through. I have donated the rest or thrown out what the thrift shops wouldn’t take.

 

Lisa and I also took several van loads of her former roommate’s stuff to the roommate’s new place and carried it up three flights of stairs. Her son was supposed to help her move out, but he wasn’t showing up as planned and promised, and we were running out of time, so helping became mandatory. (WHEW!  That was harder than moving Ben’s stuff to Lisa’s, because no steps were involved in moving Ben. Fortunately, there was an elevator at Ben’s place!)

 

Anyway, we need to be out by end of day today and we will just make it. We have one glass-paned cabinet to move, a little food to get out of Ben’s fridge, and the kitties, and we’re done. We are both looking forward to that… but it’s sad that it all came about because Ben never even made it to Hospice after the hospital to enjoy a few more weeks or months of life.

 

I’m glad he has been released from his suffering, though.  Ben, we love you, and we always will!  We’ll take good care of Miss Kitty and Sherman!