And then she was gone

This is how Mama died, and it's not sad it's inspirational even spiritual and mystical and so it's OK to read.

It was the last day. January 13. The decision had been made to disconnect Mama from her life support. She would be moved to a hospice facility within Baylor Medical Center in Irving Texas where she would be allowed to die with dignity with her family and with Scrappy her cat by her side, in a comfortable and home-ish atmosphere.

And as the hospice worker prepared Mama to be moved he told my sister and Dad When you walk down the hall, when you go home to take a shower, when you go to eat lunch or to get a cup of coffee or turn your back that is when she will die.

I wasn't there but I promise you that little news flash hit my Dad and my sister hard. Froze them maybe. The finality of it all. She will die. The She Will Die part hit them. Hard. Made them squeamish about eating and showering and walking out of the hospital for a breath of fresh air.

And then the hospice worker finished his thought.

People who are dying try to spare the ones they love from watching them die and that's why they will do it when you are doing something else.

The hospice worker disappeared to go take care of some final paperwork for Mama's move. He did not come back.

It was 3 o'clock Friday January 13. Thereabouts.

My sister was on one side of Mama's bed. Daddy was on the other. They watched and listened to the monitors that kept track of Mama's heart and its last few beats.

Daddy is a putterer. He turned around and began to collect things that were laying about the room. Clothes, newspapers, incidental items that he cleaned up and gathered. Puttering. Next to stamp collecting it may be Daddy's favorite hobby. That's what he was doing. Puttering. And his back was to Mama.

My sister stood and watched the heart monitor. It went from 78 to 58 quickly. At 38 my sister leaned over and kissed Mama on the forehead. I love you Mama she said.

And then she was gone.

My sister said the whole thing took less than a minute, maybe right at a minute.

Daddy, she's gone.

Daddy turned around from his puttering.

Yeah, she's really sound asleep isn't she? he said.

No Daddy, she's gone.

I'm told Daddy's knees buckled. I know next the tears flowed.

Mama died when Daddy's back was turned and he wasn't watching.

That is total love.

Complete devotion.

And it is from the hand of a merciful God.

Comments

[Janie]

Amen.

[sinalco]

Thanks for blogging this. My uncle Ed, my mom's younger brother, was diagnosed with stage-4 pancreatic cancer last summer. He's undergone a few surgeries and a few rounds of chemo, but the cancer is too advanced and so they are sending him home under hospice care next week.

I'll be praying for you and your family.