I know, but it still hurts

I've had the hospice nurse, social worker and chaplain here recently. 



Peter and his "girls" at SPICE 2005



I'm working on the arrangements for Peter's cremation.  I've started to think about the open house we'll have here to celebrate his life, and the slide show I'll make for the first SPICE after he's gone.  Our SPICE friends are our family.  I won't really grieve until I can grieve with them.  They have nurtured and accepted Peter just as he is all these years.  Nowhere else does he feel so wrapped in love.  The rest of us feel the same way.  We'll need our SPICE friends when the times comes.

We'll spend the rest of Peter's trust on a trip to Kolkata for Leo and Annie and I.  We'll ask our friends at Shishur Sevay, and Gibi, and Seema Gupta, and our loved ones at SICW (Peter's and Annie's orphanage) to join us at the edge of the Ganges (called the Hooghly in West Bengal) and lay his ashes to final rest there.  I know my grown-up sponsored children Maria and Partha will want to be there too.  Peter is known and loved in Kolkata.  I'm sure our dear ones there will help us give him a proper send-off.



I can't quite bring myself to start working on the slide show.  I know I could need it at any moment, but I probably won't need it for a while.  Except I could need it at any moment.  This is where the feeling of "jinx" comes in.  Irrational, but it holds me back.

Yeah, I'm doing all this stuff.  I've even chosen a charity that I hope all of Peter's friends will give to in his name.  Something important.  Yeah.



Peter and Kaveri at SPICE '07



The people from Make a Wish just called me back to say that they talked with Peter's hematologist and he gave them the information they need to move forward with Peter's wish.  They'll send someone out here in a week or two to work with Peter on that.  Apparently, they have ways to elicit wishes from little kids who don't really understand what's going on. 



Christine from Make a Wish said, "well, ordinarily we try to do something when the child has 6-12 months to go, but your doctor said that in Peter's case, we should do something sooner, in the next 3 months."  All the while, Peter is sitting at the computer next to me playing his Harry Potter game.  He is FINE.  FINE.  HE IS ABSOLUTELY FINE.

The doctor would never put together a number and a month for me.  I know what he said to Make a Wish is just arbitrary -- it means it COULD happen that soon, not that it will.  It could be much longer.  I know that.



Peter and his Krishna bag at SPICE 2010



Still, I have to turn my face away from Peter as I type this because I am wracked by sobs after hearing the word "3" followed by "months".  I'm practical.  This is not news to me.  But oh, my little boy.  I'm not ready to lose him.  But as I sit here, I feel a hang clasping my shoulder, and I know it's my Indian Mummy, Shanti, saying in her gruff, down-to-earth voice, "Baby, you must not cry. This is what life is, our destiny is fixed, what can we do?  We were all blessed to have Daddy with us for so long, but we would not hold him back when it was time.  We were happy that he went so peacefully.  You must pray for the same thing for Peter."



I can hear her voice as if she is sitting right behind me, and she is the greatest comfort I have.  This is a woman who looked life straight in the face every moment of every day and never flinched.  A powerful woman.  She was dry-eyed and firm in her purpose when she insisted on entering the crematory to say a final goodbye to Daddy's body.  Women traditionally aren't welcome in crematories in India.  She did what was expected every day of her life, but on the day Daddy died, she did what her heart told her to do.  I am going to be like THAT, Mummy.  I am going to be like THAT.



I asked the hospice social worker what choices we would have if Peter died in the hospital.  If something happened, we might not know right away that it was terminal.  She said that we could do pretty much whatever we wanted.  I broke down when I told her that I need to wash him, and put cream on his skin.  She asked if I'd like her help with that.  No, it's something I need to do on my own.  I think Leo and Annie will want to help.  It's OK if they don't.



Peter is already too thin for the voluminous Indian outfits I had made for him last year.  He loves to wear his Indian clothes every day during SPICE.  His drawstring "pyjamas" will still fit, so I'm thinking of going down to Devon Avenue to look for 3 fancy men's Kurtas that can be cut down a bit to fit him.  He's still too broad and short to fit any ready-to-wear size.  I want him to have a Sherwani.  He deserves a Sherwani.  He's going to have a Sherwani, for now and for then.  My precious little man.