In Memoriam, Simon Kugler, 1924-2010

My mother's husband, Simon Kugler, died two days ago, after a long and difficult illness. He died quietly at home in bed, as they both wanted. I thought, when I was booking tickets last week, that I was flying over for the funeral, but having lived at least a year longer than the doctors expected, he then lived another three or four days longer than we thought he would after they took him off the IV hydration. But after a few days of "it will be today," Tuesday morning, when the palliative care nurse came in, she noticed signs that it would be soon. Mom sat near him, because she wanted to, and I sat with her, because the reason I was in London was to take care of her. He died gently enough that it took us a couple of minutes to be sure.

In Orthodox Jewish tradition, he was buried yesterday afternoon; I changed my ticket home so I could stay for the funeral, and am very glad I was there to support Mom.

After the doctor came to certify the death, Mom told me she was glad the doctor hadn't written something euphemistic like "heart failure" on the death certificate. Simon had frontal-temporal lobe dementia, which was hard for him, and for my mother, and for his carer, Mel (who worked for them full time for the last five years). But they had many good years together, and Mom told me a few days ago that before she and Simon met and fell in love, she had no idea how much one person could love another, or be loved.