I lost my darling husband this spring due to complications from advanced Parkinson’s Disease. He had been diagnosed in 2018; I never wrote about it here in the magazine because my column is about entertaining and there is absolutely nothing entertaining about Parkinson’s.
But Jimmy was an entertaining guy, and he loved it when we had parties. Even at the very end, confined to a hospital bed in our living room and unable to talk much or enjoy a beverage, he wanted to see his pals.
The Power of Gathering Friends
The hospice nurse had pulled me aside on March 10 and gently informed me Jimmy had one week to live. “I’ve been doing this for 20 years,” she said, “I know the signs.” I was stunned, overwrought. Jimmy and I both thought he had more time. I debated whether to tell him, then blurted it out. He took the news collectedly, told me I’d done the right thing, his answer, a firm yes when I asked him if he wanted to see people. I got on the phone and the news spread.
I tried to schedule the visitors individually and gave up. Then began what amounted to nightly cocktail parties around his bed with friends and family from near and far. People brought wine and snacks and took over my kitchen. I had stopped caring how my house looked. You can’t be house-proud when a family member is in hospice care, what with the mountains of equipment and medical supplies. The mess didn’t matter. The comradeship enlivened Jimmy like you wouldn’t believe. The one-week time limit came and went. Our patient wasn’t going anywhere.
Too Much Fun to Leave
Jimmy especially enjoyed that people he loved from far-flung locations were finally meeting. “I always knew they would like each other,” he said of two friends having a lively conversation.
The disease took its villainous course. He died on March 23, awake and holding my hand. It was almost a week longer than the nurse had predicted. I attribute those extra days to the fact that he was enjoying the company of his friends and family too much to go quite yet.
I thought it might be creepy to be alone in our house since it is where he died. But it’s not creepy at all. It’s comforting because I have good memories of those days before he died. And I know he is in a place more wonderful than I can imagine.
But down here on Earth, I do have some tips to share, based on Jimmy’s style of hosting.
The Essential Honey-Do List
Jimmy was first-rate company, versed in many topics, a careful listener. My brother described him as “an oasis of good conversation.” In battling terminal illness, he was as courageous as anyone I’ve ever seen. But reader, he was never good party help. For many years, we would, as many couples do, bicker while getting ready to have people over. I felt like I had to do everything; it was a struggle getting him to do much to assist. I finally realized my independent-minded husband did not like to be told what to do. But he would cheerfully do any task, as long as I wrote it on a list and left it on the kitchen table. I also learned it helped to praise him lavishly for everything he did, even if it was going to CVS for ice.
Jimmy had simple tastes, and would talk me down from the ledge of whatever extravagant party idea I had fixed upon. The easier plan always turned out just fine.
Act Like a Guest at Your Own Party
When the party started, Jimmy would just behave like another guest, relying on the other guests (read: womenfolk) to pitch in if I needed a hand. It’s how my dad behaved when my parents entertained, I guess that’s why I didn’t mind. Jimmy would be relaxed and having a good time and that spread to the guests. No one likes to have the host fluttering over them, right? He was, however, always happy to share his single malt Scotch.
Pizza, Candlelight, and Conversation
Last summer, Jimmy became too debilitated to leave the house. But he very much wanted to be with friends. I was taking care of him and had no inclination to cook. We began inviting people over for salad and pizza delivered from Minsky’s. I would set a pretty table in the dining room, as for a proper dinner party. Except it was just pizza. And Klondike bars for dessert. No one cared what I was serving. The conversations were what mattered. I think Jimmy would have been okay if this had been the menu for every dinner party we ever hosted during our 40-year marriage. As I said, he was a man of simple tastes. I sure do miss him.
Jimmy’s Manhattan, Batched
On the evening of Jimmy’s funeral, I hosted a Celebration of Life at Lidia’s Kansas City. They served heavy appetizers along with wine, beer, and the drink Jimmy ordered at restaurants, the classic Manhattan. He always ordered his up, but for practicality’s sake, Lidia’s bartender mixed the recipe in large pitchers and served it over ice. It was a massive hit and would be an easy cocktail for your next party.
- 2 parts Four Roses bourbon
- ½ part sweet vermouth
- A few dashes Angostura bitters
- Maraschino cherries (Lidia’s uses Luxardo brand)
Combine ingredients in a large pitcher and serve over ice. Finish with a cherry.
Email me with your entertaining questions, dilemmas, or triumphs at mjackson@inkansascity.com