I died on January 10, 2013, I was 102 years old. As much as I'd wanted the day to never come or on some days how much I desperately wanted the day to come, it still caught me off guard.
I celebrated a wonderful holiday season with Christmas coming and going as it had for 101 years. Then on December 30th I felt like I was catching a cold. By the 31st I had the flu, it was reported (in the newspapers which I was still reading on the morning of December 30th) that this year's flu season was extremely aggressive and I guess in hindsight I would agree. By January 1st I was in critical care under home hospice. I barely ate or drank and slowly let my body shut down. For the first time I was more tired than scared. In June of 2012, my last "death scare", I told my daughters that if I ever fell really ill that I wanted nature to take it's course, I did not want any technological intervention. Despite their fears, they followed my wishes. There were several family members that had come into town to celebrate my 102nd birthday (which was on January 1st - I always loved being a New Year's baby...). As midnight approached, I'd been in bed most of the night but my family still brought me the cake and sang happy birthday, I was tired but happy because I was with them. January 1st was a tough day, I could barely eat or drink - it was the turning point and my family was concerned. More family started flying in and talking to me. Despite my semi-conscious state I could hear them. It is said that the hearing is the last to go and I'd agree.
I heard every word of love. On occasion felt a warm tear on my forehead or cheek as someone leaned over to kiss me and a tear made its way to my skin. I can still remember the warmth of the tears, full of sadness and love. I would imagine reaching out and providing comfort but my body wouldn't let me. I also felt the warmth of those that held my hand, that laid next to me, that hugged me, that fixed my hair despite the situation. I heard them saying that I'd want to look good no matter my state. I heard when family and friends gathered in my room to pray the rosary - something I feel I've done a million times through the years. The serenity and familiar sound of the rosary calmed me, prepared me. I heard my last rites from a familiar voice; my priest had come to send me off in peace. I heard the whispers of those that said everything would be ok, that it was fine to let go if I was ready. I smelled the home cooking as more and more family and friends gathered to show their love. I smelled the flowers that had been sent to me and were held up to my nose as I was told who they were from and what the card said. I heard the occasional laughter as my life and my mischief were recalled. I heard beautiful music that was played in my room to help me relax. I felt the warmth when the family dogs (a mini schnauzer and a maltese) were placed on my bed as was customary when I was sick. I'd always loved dogs, especially my beloved Toti... I heard the love when those that couldn't come see me in person were put on the phone. I felt clean, the hospice caretakers knew that cleanliness was always important to me and despite my sleep-like state they always treated me with dignity and did a great job. I smelled my clothes as I was changed into fresh robes. I heard as new nurses commented on my face and my skin - I smiled inside, knowing that all those years of care had worked. I was extremely alert, my sense of smell, of touch, of hearing was magnified. But what made me realize that everything would be ok was hearing my five daughters in the same room with me (despite being motionless and unable to respond), talking, laughing - even if through tears - and together. I was transported through the years, back to when they were little, back to when they filled the house with laughter and mischief of their own, back to when my husband was alive and life was good. Back to the happiest years of my life. I think my role as a wife and a mother were my biggest accomplishments - my little girls - they blessed me with 14 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren - they are what made me me.
I'd like to say that this blog is not over, through the decades I wrote down my thoughts, some poems and some memories for my granddaughter Anna Evelyn. I think she will share some in this blog, she is like that. She was always so curious, asking me random questions, digging into my memory bank, recording our conversations, trying to learn about me and my experiences. I told her many times that she was very special to me, that I sensed her love for me since she was a little girl. And that I was grateful that that love grew as she grew. I'd just recently started telling her how much I loved when we took our siestas together - which we always did after a good meal! Yes, I loved Anna but I loved all my grandchildren and great grandchildren and I know they all loved me.
So, I am still here, I am just free. The poem below ("I'm Free") was perfectly chosen by my daughters - it was printed on the prayer cards that were issued at my service and I couldn't have said it better myself...
Don't grieve for me for now I'm free.
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took his hand when I heard him call.
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I've found that peace at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow:
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full I've savored much,
Good times, good friends, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all to brief,
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, he set me free.
When I think of love, in any capacity, I cannot help but think of family. Of how families start because of love. So with that, I love you grandma, Happy Valentine's Day! Although I miss you, you will live in my heart forever.
- Anna Evelyn -
