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You are here: Home / Uncategorized / HEARTBREAK

HEARTBREAK

November 30, 2020 by Sarah Kline 21 Comments

family pic

I’m devastated to have to deliver the news that so many of you know — thanks to Instagram, Facebook and word-of-mouth.

But in the event you haven’t heard — my beloved David, soulmate for over two decades, died at home on November 7th.

I know it’s been a while since I posted here, but it’s been a blur of activity and worry. David was put on hospice early October but up until that last week in early November or so we thought we had more time.

As David grew weaker (as the pneumonitis worsened and the esophageal cancer started to multiply in his chest) he stopped going to his office and for weeks left our bedroom only to use the restroom. But still, my husband was still his usual self– pragmatic, loving and with a steely resolve– and he encouraged us to do things to things we needed to do. Schoolwork. Errands. Phone calls.

Of course everything is different with COVID but some joys needed to be preserved at all costs.

Halloween trick or treater

So Halloween was fully celebrated and all the neighborhood kids were encouraged to come by for safe candy dispersal.

I had a carpet of treats leading up to my porch (books, Star Wars trading cards and action figures, Lego bags, mini-Playmobile sets, craft supplies)

trick or treat halloween sidewalk

playmobile trick or treater

and there were full-size candy bars and snacks up on the porch which I threw to all the kids and parents twenty feet away.

Porter Halloween

My sister flew out around this time to be with us

Polly with bread

— and spend some time with an ailing David — but we had no idea that within a week of this Halloween celebration he’d be gone (even his own oncologist talked to him Monday, November 2nd, the night before the election and told David that he might still yet have weeks or a few months — not just the few days we had left with him).

In that last week of his life, hospice was wonderful. David was struggling worse with each passing day but from David there were no complaints, no woe is me. He was barely eating at this point but the night after the election he did manage to consume a few Brussels sprouts and a half slice of this, my favorite pizza in town.

Scottie's Bianca Pizza

Turns out a few bites of this Bianca pie from Scottie’s was the last thing he ever ate. (How terribly appropriate.)

The day after he ate this,  his health took a deep nosedive. It was believed by the hospice staff that perhaps David suffered from a pulmonary embolism and so we were in full-crisis mode. The last 36 hours were a blur of activity as a hospital bed was quickly ordered for our home, a pain pump was attached to my beloved, and hospice workers came and went as we attempted to keep the worst of the pain and agitation at bay.

Problem was — David didn’t want to go. He loved all us too much and he didn’t want to leave the family he loved so dearly.

David and Charlotte

David also leaves behind Daniel, his son with his ex-wife Anita, (look at this pic she took of the two of them as his adoption was finalized in Colombia three plus decades ago)

David and Daniel in Colombia

his 96 year old mother and his brothers,

David baby pic

and so many brothers and sisters-in-laws and nieces and nephews.

Also missing him right now are dear friends Dan, Julie and Joe and countless other friends spread across the globe.

What can I tell you about the very end?

What happened that last day and a half was an epic struggle between his mind and heart desperately trying to stay alive (he kept saying he didn’t want to leave us) and a body collapsing by the minute, the cancer and the lung inflammation and perhaps the embolism all working together to shut down his organs.

David had been in scrappy situations before but nothing as critical or perilous as this one.

David in Afghanistan

I think about those last hours still a bit shell-shocked but now a new image has coalesced out of the devastation that was the end.

Imagine Moby Dick — or perhaps a modern day version. A man on a hundred foot long luxury power motor boat sits in the middle of the ocean with all the tricked out, state of the art electric tools of a big game fisherman. He has the advantages of horsepower, electricity, technology and communal wisdom and physics. He also has the advantage of time; he can sit comfortably in his white leather swivel chair, comfortable in the knowledge that almost all of his needs are attended to and his safety is amply ensured.

From deep underwater comes an 800 pound tuna, a beautiful glistening beast that’s lived decades in the icy, largely untouched waters and, up to this moment, has enjoyed a life of freedom and speed.  In one fateful moment though that fish nibbles on the luxurious treat at the end of that hook only to learn too late the origin or repercussions of the offered nibble. It appears that the die is cast.

What ensues over the course of the next hours is a magnificent yet bloody dance between the two. At any one moment it would appear that the man will overtake the fish. At others the fight in the fish is so great — and the will to survive so ferocious — that it seems as if somehow the tuna will figure out a way to extricate from the barbaric hook and swim smugly away — exhausted but exhilarated from having survived the mightiest of struggles.

Cancer was the man on the boat — the one with all the advantages on its side, the one destined to win from its very first reveal on my birthday twenty months ago.  David was the 800 pound tuna, the force of nature with the will to live so strong that he kept in the fight far longer than most.

It also meant that in the end, seeing him suffer so terribly, I had to plead with him to leave my side and let go.

Yes, I had to beg my husband, my soulmate, my constant companion for over 21 years, to die — even though I knew that it would break all our hearts and leave my kids without a father.

Finally, David’s breathing changed from ragged and wet to more intermittent and relaxed, and then I felt the man who gave me the happiest day of my life

wedding pic

also delivered to me my most sorrowful.

And then the business of passing became even more real. I washed his face and gave him one last kiss. I made sure that he was dressed in fresh clothes and then the mortuary service arrived within the hour. They carried him out of our house in a zipped bag in a gurney.

Afterwards the house felt empty and so different.

Anyone who’s walked on this journey and been a front chair witness to the horrors of unchecked agony knows the difficulty.

My beloved sister was there for his passing (he died in my arms as I curled up in his hospital bed and kept telling him how much we loved him) and my equally cherished brother arrived just hours later.

They both helped me immeasurably in the bewildering, staggering days afterward.

My brother Dave and sister Polly are the most loving, generous, and compassionate siblings on the planet and I’m eternally helpful for all they did for me and my kids this month.

I’m also gobsmacked by the generosity of the community that has surrounded me in the bleakness of our days.

My friend Mary Ann organized a surprise candlelight vigil for us the day after David died and I walked out of my front porch to a stunning image– over 150 people (half with candles, half without) awaiting my arrival in respectful silence.

It was so surprising and so stunning a visual that I wept openly in front of this crowd that had organized with just a few hours notice.

Rarely in life do we encounter true wonder — to me, a time in which the divine kisses the mundane.

This vigil was a wonder, stretching from one end of the block to a few houses past mine. When my friend, a former opera singer, led us all into a rendition of Amazing Grace, I felt weak-kneed with gratitude.

Before I knew it, both my sister and brother had to go back home. They both had done such a wonderful job of helping me before, during and after David’s demise, and the overlap in their visits felt like one superlative runner passing the baton to another. But they too had families and work that needed them so I brought them both back to the airport. It was time.

Ever since, I’ve been happily deluged with even more treats and surprises.

A Sign Up Genius sheet was also started for me and instead of casseroles and completed dishes, I’ve just asked for simple things: espresso, wonderful breads, fresh flowers, produce, small gift certificates at New Seasons (my favorite grocery store) and the occasional bottle of red wine.

My friends, neighbors and local IG-ers have been dropping off treats almost every day.

gift from neighbor

flower drop off

food delivery

cinnamon rolls drop off

gift drop off

A friend also started a GoFundMe account for my kids’ college fund.

My husband was a meticulous planner but as a journalist and consultant with no job security, it was only recently that he was able to start saving for their college (hence we are behind the eight ball with that).

The irony is that he himself was just a high school graduate but he had a brilliant mind and a fierce curiosity, enabling him ultimately to master so many different fields and disciplines without the benefit of college or traditional introductions. He was a self-made man who went on to write numerous books for such esteemed publishers as Harvard Press (among others), start a PR firm with friend Dan, land on the short list for a Pulitzer for his war reporting, sell a screenplay and later become one of the world’s top Intellectual Property consultants.

The financial wherewithal to attend college and possibly graduate school was his dream for his kids, but he simply ran out of time. I’m just so grateful that friends, family and Instagram buddies have chipped in to help with that. Every little bit helps and I know somewhere he’s looking down on us with that half smile and intensity that was his hallmark.

David

I wrote an obituary for my supernova husband/bad ass

David

and I’d be honored if you took a gander

https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/klinestrong

(and if link doesn’t work just look for “klinestrong”).

And so there you have it.

I know that in the long run we’ll be okay but right now it just feels like absolute heartbreak. We were together all the time and tethered to one another — even when he was at work we’d check in on one another almost hourly. As regular readers can attest, we enjoyed being together so much. The kids miss his steadying presence and wisdom and competitiveness, and even Porter seems out of sorts with his master gone.

Porter and Oliver

And now, I’m off to plan a burial a little over a day from now. It’ll just be the three of us for now; one day we hope to have a celebration befitting the magnificent man that he was, but now’s not the time.

Wish us luck, include us in your prayers and for God’s sake, please stay safe and remain healthy.

With love and gratitude, Sarah.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

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Comments

  1. Polly Kennedy Meyer says

    November 30, 2020 at 3:49 am

    Beautiful post, Sarah.
    I love you all so much.
    Sending love & hugs to all of you.

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      November 30, 2020 at 4:49 am

      Love you MOST. And were all so blessed to have you inn our lives . ❤️

      Reply
  2. Chrissy says

    November 30, 2020 at 4:54 am

    David was such a badass in so many ways; a tender badass, full of wit badass, tenacious in the causes he believed in badass…he was knew who he was, and had great pride and conviction in how he lived his daily life. What a place for a human to be. This badass will be fiercely missed. Thank you for this beautiful post Sarah. Honestly, I still can’t believe this has happened.
    Love to you!
    Chrissy

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      November 30, 2020 at 5:11 am

      Me too. You were a source of both comfort and smiles for him and been such a generous angel to us all. United in sorrow, Sarah

      Reply
  3. Kate says

    November 30, 2020 at 5:36 am

    Sarah, I’m weeping. This was so beautifully written, and such a heartfelt and fitting tribute to David. Love you all so much. xoxoxoxo

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      November 30, 2020 at 12:40 pm

      Hello dear you. Thanks for the kind words and I’m so glad that you felt I captured him. Thanks for all you did to help me get through this dark time. Love you.

      Reply
  4. Lori Kaplan says

    November 30, 2020 at 7:04 am

    I’m so sorry for your loss. My cousin also died of esophageal cancer. It is a truly tortuous disease. May the support or neighbors, friends, family and strangers continue to surround and comfort you and your family.

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      November 30, 2020 at 12:43 pm

      I’m so sorry to hear that your family too has suffered with this. As you well know, it’s a nightmare beyond words. Thank you for the sweet thoughts and sending you love. XO

      Reply
  5. Sandy says

    November 30, 2020 at 2:21 pm

    I am so sorry for your loss. May his memory always be a comfort to you and your children. Thank you for sharing his life with those of us who never had the opportunity to meet him.

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      December 1, 2020 at 2:31 pm

      Sandy, thanks so much for chiming in with the kind thoughts. Hugs.

      Reply
  6. Lucinda Winslow says

    November 30, 2020 at 3:22 pm

    Ah, Sarah, this is beauty itself. Love itself. Courage itself.
    David is already proud of you. Thanks for sharing so fully and vulnerably.
    You, too, are a gifted writer.
    Blessings and love.
    We are here for you.
    L &B

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      December 1, 2020 at 2:32 pm

      Thanks for the sweet note and the support. Today is going to be so so hard — we lay him to rest in a few hours. Keep the blessings and love coming — I am sure we will feel it.

      Reply
  7. Tracy says

    November 30, 2020 at 8:07 pm

    What a beautiful tribute to your amazing husband. I am so sorry for your family’s loss but so glad you are surrounded by so much love. I have enjoyed your blog and your generosity has inspired me. Sending caring thoughts from Ohio.

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      December 1, 2020 at 2:34 pm

      Thanks so much Tracy for taking time out of your day to try to better mine. Your kind words mean more now than ever — as we are off to bury him in just a few hours. We all miss him bitterly. Sending all the love back to you in Ohio. Sarah

      Reply
  8. Eileen McDargh says

    November 30, 2020 at 8:58 pm

    I cried all the way through. Both you and David are/were gifted writers. Sending love and prayers from Dosinia Dr. in Dana Point, I took your mom and Fritz my lemon cake the day after Thanksgiving. Never saw Kathy. Not much any of us can do there. Blessings

    Reply
    • Sarah Kline says

      December 1, 2020 at 2:35 pm

      Hello Eileen, thanks for the compliments and kind words. Yes, it is pure heartbreak there, too. Thanks for showering them with a little love — we all appreciate it so much. Sending love back from Portland. XO

      Reply
  9. Joan Olzer says

    December 2, 2020 at 1:37 am

    Dearest Sarah,
    I have never met you but have followed you for years. I cried through your entire text. I played bridge for years with your Mom and so enjoyed her and Fritz. I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your wonderful husband. My prayers will be with you. I’m so sorry for your loss!
    Joan

    Reply
  10. Misty says

    December 2, 2020 at 3:06 am

    Sarah,
    We don’t know each other. I stumbled upon your blog a year or two ago through some other blog’s link. I have since enjoyed reading about your food adventures in Portland and the treasures you find in the “bins”. But, I’m so sorry to see this post. You have a wonderful family and community of friends and your husband was clearly an awesome guy. I guess I just wanted to Say how deeply sorry I am and send some love and kindness to you (from one stranger to another).
    With sympathy,
    Misty

    Reply
  11. Danielle C says

    December 2, 2020 at 4:34 am

    This was such a beautiful tribute. As heartbreaking as it is, thank you for taking us along on the journey. So sorry for your loss and the dark days.

    Reply
  12. Kim says

    December 4, 2020 at 4:46 pm

    Sarah, thank you so much for sharing this tribute with us all! You’re such a gifted writer, and the heart of this neighborhood for me. I’m so so sorry for your loss! But also heartened by seeing the love that You create all the time, giving so much of yourself to your family, friends and community, being reflected back to you now.

    Reply
  13. Shauna Keyes says

    December 17, 2020 at 11:12 pm

    Beautifully written, Sarah. I admired him (and you) so much during our time together at Tillamook. What a special time that was and I always really enjoyed conversations with him. I felt he was a brilliant badass ❤️
    We are so deeply sorry for your loss.

    Reply

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Hi, I'm Sarah Kline. Former cook at Greens. Restaurant reviewer and food columnist for San Francisco Examiner. Copywriter/recipe writer for Williams Sonoma. Private cooking teacher.  Flash forward.  -> Read More

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