Burt's Last Dance (the day before he died)

When Burt accepted the doctor's prognosis - that he wouldn't live to see February - he was at the hospital in Loja. There, he held me in his arms while I sobbed and purged lifetimes of tears. Through my distress I told him, "We are going to sing and dance you out." Red helped get Sarah to Vilcamba. In the end, your dad was able to have the quiet space and private time that he needed to have with Red so that they could heal their rift and long-standing estrangement. I had already moved our bed into the office in order for one bedroom to accomodate a hospital bed and so that Sarah and your dad could share a room during the last week of his life. Sarah helped to take the overnight shifts in caring for your dad, as well. During that last week of his life, I remember Burt saying that he was seeing angels and images in the overhead ceiling where grass thatching was forned in square panels. It was the panel above the bed that became like a computer screen to your dad. The day before Burt died, he experienced his 'last wind.' He sat bolt upright in bed and asked to be wheeled into the front room. He wanted to go visit with people in the town square but without a ramp up into our casita, we were unable to roll him and out of the house. Instead, Carol came over and she and I danced around Burt as he sat in his wheelchair. He mainly wanted to preach and teach at this time but it was hard to understand his words. His last dance however captures the essence of Burt's spirit - it was unquenchable even as he faced his own death. His eyes still sparkling and his adoration for me intact.