I feel very fortunate to have been able to meet Rodger just a few days before his passing. I am a friend of Rodger's niece, Julia. I am a musician, and Julia's mother asked if I would like to come over and play my saxophone for Roger. At first I was extremely nervous about this because of the magnitude and intensity of the situation. But within ten minutes of being in the room with Roger, I became completely relaxed. His sincerity, genuineness, warmth, and kindness flushed out all of my discomfort and hesitation. It almost made me feel selfish for being nervous, because it seemed that in his beautiful world there is no need for anyone to prove anything about themselves.

He peppered me with some questions about school, music, the New York Mets, and my friendship with Julia. I peppered him with a few questions regarding Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington-- knowing that he is old enough to have caught the tail-end of one of the great eras of American music.

I thought the most fitting thing to possibly play for a born-again Christian would be 'Amazing Grace', followed closely by 'Danny Boy', an homage to the O'Connors and their Irish decendance. And then lastly I had to play Duke Ellngton's signature tune 'Take the A Train'. 

Truly an unforgettable experience and an unforgettable person. I was telling Julia, that even though I only spent 45 minutes with Roger, I now can walk away feeling assured that a part of him lives on within me, and I am thrilled that this is so.

If you knew Rodger, you know that few moments with him pass without laughter. During his week at Midwest Palliative Care Center, where my family and I made it our mission to make his last days as happy and fulfilling as possible, there were several times when he sent us all into fits. 

Here is one moment than had me rolling on the floor.

____ 

One of the many gifts that this hospice center gave us was the permission to bring our 9-year-old Border Collie to meet Rodger. We were initially wary of bringing Shadow into such unfamiliar territory–she tends to be skittish in new places, not to mention Shadow is quite particular about who she fraternizes with; very few humans or fellow canines win her favor. But the moment we mentioned to Rodger our plans to bring her, he wouldn't let us forget it. "When's Shadow coming?" he'd say. "I want to see Shadow!" Far be it from us to deny a sick man's request.

We brought her into the building on a leash during the evening of Rodger's second day at the hospice. Leading her into the elevator and up to his room on the third floor, we distracted her anxious puppy eyes with new tennis balls and dog treats. When we entered his room with Shadow in tow, we saw that Rodger was fast asleep. An hour passed, Rodger breathing deeply and consistently with shut eyes; us watching him, chatting and throwing Shadow the ball. In the hope of letting Rodger rest and gain strength after his trip on Air Force One (that's what he called his air ambulance, considering he was the only passenger on board) we gathered our belongings to leave him be. Just then, Rodger's eyes fluttered open.

"Rodger! Shadow's here!" I said to him, and he scanned the room, not yet seeing Shadow who was blocked by his hospital bed. "Shadow! Go see Rodger!" my mom followed. My dad, who was holding Shadow's leash, brought her close to the bed, expecting that she'd sniff his hand or offer him a lick if he was lucky. Instead, Shadow leapt with gusto onto the bed and settled down on top of Rodger's legs. There was a flurry of movement: my mom gasped, my brother and father collided while trying to lift her off him, I spun around looking for my phone to capture the moment... and Rodger simply lay still, his face looking hardly surprised at the four-legged creature that had just invaded his bed. Once we confirmed that, no, Shadow was not hurting his legs and, yes, he wanted her on his bed, we all calmed down.

Rodger reached out his stiff hand and placed it on top of Shadow's head, which was barely a foot away from his. In his other hand we placed one of Shadow's dog treats for him to feed her. It was miraculous, as if Shadow had sensed that Rodger had need healing, and took it upon herself to offer a paw. There we were, talking, laughing and petting; the family was all together, just how Shadow likes it. 

I looked over at Rodger to see whether he was enjoying himself... he was surely smiling, but I also noticed something odd about his mouth. It looked as though his bottom teeth were protruding from his lips, or maybe he had thrown up his dinner.... I made my observation public, and my mom, dad and brother began staring at Rodger's mouth quizzically. There was no consensus on the unidentified brown object, so, slowly I brought my face close to his.

In Rodger's mouth was a dog treat. Balancing on his tongue like medicine he did not want to swallow was one of Shadow's 100% natural potato and pecan flavored dog treats. We all burst into hysterics. Rodger O'Connor, who had to have all of his meals pureed to a pulp, had nearly swallowed a cookie not for regular human consumption. He swore to us that he had no idea how it got there, but I suspect he was just trying to sneak a taste of something more than mush.

-Julia Jacobs, Rodger's niece

Note: Watch the photo slideshow to see this moment for yourself!

So this was kind of funny. The first nurse I spoke with on the phone had that familiar New York tone to her voice and, sure enough, she was from the Bronx.
A Yankee fan though so they knocked heads a bit on that. That was Jane who took care of Rodger through the night. Then there was Terry from Queens. She was so kind and caring, just wonderful. I think Rodger felt right at home there. He wanted to know and remember everyone's name and they appreciated that. He treated people with respect and wanted to know about their lives. He knew that Beverly, a CNA, was going back home to see her family after being away for 14 years. We were all from different places, but in that place we were all connected.