When it came to gift giving, I used to be a bit jealous of my sister, Marianne. Her husband, Al, seems to have the art down pat. He keeps a secret stash of wonderful jewelry just right for her, and presents gifts to her on special dates — sometimes just for it being Friday.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the many pairs of just-right slippers Roger gave me, and our annual holiday shopping trip to buy gifts for each other. As it turns out, he had this special art of gift giving down pat as well. Too bad I had to receive Roger’s special stash of gifts to fully realize that about him. It seems some gifts are meant to be given and treasured only at the worst of times in life.
It was only 11 months from diagnosis to death for Roger. Cancer is not selective and it took a strong, loving, quiet man all too quickly. There was no time to prepare, no time to go back and replay a day or a year. It just was. If you are not ready, too bad.
I received my first stashed-away gift that day when the doctor asked Roger if he had a health directive. He said yes. Little did I realize the value of that gift — but soon I would.
The second stashed gift came less than 30 days later with the doctor’s second pronouncement. The cancer had spread into Roger’s brain. His memory and reasoning skills were impaired and he was unable to fully comprehend his terminal prognosis. All I knew was I was going to lose my husband. The doctor’s question this time was, “Has he given you his durable power of attorney that includes medical decisions?”
I answered yes. In the midst of tears and fear, I was told how fortunate it was he had done that for me. Making decisions for him would be no problem with it, but without it how terribly complicated it could be — including the need for legal proceedings.
It was then I realized the precious gifts I had been given by Roger. The feeling of being so loved that he did this for me in advance was indescribable. But Roger had more gifts for me.
The third gift he had prepared kept arriving in the mailbox during the coming weeks, as we bought precious time with radiation treatments and medications. We enjoyed every day together, saw our youngest son married, a new grandson born. All the while this gift kept arriving: statements from the health insurance company. Enormous amounts of money were being paid for us.
Cancer is not cheap. Without this gift Roger had ready for us, we would have had to sell our home and more than deplete our savings and retirement funds just to pay medical bills — and forget daily living. Our financial world was not totally destroyed because of this gift. We were able to go through the horror of cancer in the comfort of our familiar life and home.
Roger was not one to dwell on things. His comment upon hearing he had cancer was that we needed to make the most of what we had for as long as we could and not waste any time feeling sorry. I like to think we did just that. Later he said it looked like I would need to enjoy life for the two of us in the future. He died a couple weeks later, in January 2007, but his gifts kept coming.
The fourth gift arrived when an attorney reviewed the documents for his estate. I was beginning to feel that extra warmth of love I had come to know whenever one of his gifts appeared to me. A community property agreement, which meant no probate, no frozen bank accounts, no problems, was in place. All we owned, all he had owned, was automatically mine as he had directed upon his death. No taxes due. Simple and straightforward. My fears, based on past relatives’ cumbersome estate affairs, were not necessary.
The fifth gift came with a visit to our estate-and-investment planner. Roger had been busy there, too. His comment to me about me enjoying life for the two of us was possible because of this gift. He left life insurance policies with me as his beneficiary. Enough to give me time to grieve his loss, to stay in our home, to plan a future. Enough to ensure that if I just did my part as he and I had already planned for the next seven years, I could indeed still make our retirement dreams a reality. Again, the love of this gift wrapped me in peace and security just as all the others had.
Yes, Roger had the art of gift giving down pat. His gifts allowed us to make the most of the time he had and to enjoy our family in as much peace and calm as could be had. He collected one-of-a-kind gifts to show me how much he loved me, and things I did not even know I wanted appeared when the time was right for them to appear.
I am still numb at the loss of Roger. We were married for 37 years. But the final journey was so wrapped in his stash of protective gifts along the way that I had only to fear and mourn his loss — not the loss of the whole life we had built and the future we wanted for each other.
May we all take a lesson from Roger’s quiet gift-giving abilities. I am very proud and grateful for my precious gifts. Thank you, Roger.
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