Reflections on "Done"

Tonight marks 52 x 2 = 104 weeks since Brandon whispered, "Done." I asked if he understood what the oncology resident was telling him and offered a quick explanation of what she had said. Brandon's eyes locked with mine and he again whispered, but more decisively this time, "Done." 

The sound of his "done" haunts me. I hear each "done" over and over and over -- the first resonating with the struggle to get one word out when it was taking everything he had to simply inhale and exhale; the second resonating with the strength of his decision. For a long time I interpreted that second "done" as meaning he knew his body could take no more. His cancer had gone too far. He knew, and his second "done" meant he accepted. 

In the first year after Brandon's death, the sound of that second "done" so rang in my ear that I didn't realize I was missing a crucial element. It suddenly struck me at some point in this second year that his expressive eyes, the window of his soul, were trying to tell me his second "done" meant much more. Yes, I think he knew and accepted, but I believe his eyes were telling me he had accomplished what he was supposed to accomplish during his too short life. He had "done" what he'd come to do.

Oh, something my soul recognized during our eye contact and the second "done" -- a "reverse birthing" process had begun. And the labor contractions triggered by his whispered "done" were thousands of times more painful than those preceding his physical birth.