Goodbyes

I sat with her for the last time, filled out the paperwork, had her sign.  Our banter was typical of our visits together ...except this was our last time.  This near centurion is moving, starting a new life in another place, closer to family.  I'll miss her, but we've spoken of that for months as the move has been anticipated and arranged.  She reminds me of how my mother might have been had she lived as long ...matter of fact, quick witted, well-read, politically astute yet non-invested ...at home with who she is ...and who she will become.  Remarkable and inspiring, really. When providing care, our notes must state we followed doctor's orders and I always chuckle when I write that for her because truly, she is the one calling the shots. "You know what he wanted me to do .... Well, I went right down there and told him I didn't care what he thought, that he didn't know enough, and I refuse to follow his plan."  And so often, I danced between the two ... and she was usually right, incredibly astute about her own body ...and her doctor readily admitted it.  In fact, he had tremendous respect for this feisty woman. 
I closed her file.  I know I will miss her.  I've had a comfort level with her, a natural sort of fit.  I "get" her, have been able to help her navigate some challenging adjustments and decisions ....simply because we are "on the same wavelength," as she would say.  I thought it was because she had lived in a coastal town next to my own ...we share the New England way ...a life steeped in salty air, nor'easters and lobster. No excuses for who she was, if she told you she was royalty, you'd believe her.  I stall, not wanting to say goodbye. "When will your son arrive?" I ask.  "Soon, he's en route as we speak."  "You have one son?"  She nods "Yes, only one ...but I had another, he died."  I see ...I see where the familiarity comes from, it is not our geographic commonality ...it is this, this loss.  "I'm sorry."  She does not know of Phoebe.  She tells me her story.  "It's a wound that never heals she says ....but you know, the worst of it, the hardest part, is that people won't talk about him, as if he never was ...they think it will upset me.  Upset me?  What upsets me is to be forced into silence about him.  He lived, he walked this planet ..was part of God's plan."  She tells me more, and I see her son, hear his name.  I can see his 21 year stride, fierce independence ...I can see."  She speaks of him for a bit.  "Oh, its something you can't really know, ever, if you've never looked it in the eye.  People think other things are hard, harder even, but that's not true ..this is the biggest assault for a person, a parent."  "Your kind to listen to me speak about him, I don't really get to ...and I like to."  I hesitate ..."I lost my daughter in October" I choke out.  She strikes her chest, lurches forward towards me ..."oh no, no ...then you know ...how old, what is her name?"  I tell her and she wipes her eyes.  "And you think you failed her don't you, you think you weren't good enough, didn't do enough ...I know, I know that's what you think isn't it?"  I nod. "Yes, its true, its all so true."  "But we did the best we could ...that's all we could do."  We hold each other, me so fresh with grief ....her decades out, yet still hovering there.  And we say goodbye ...she follows me to the door.  "I will think of you and Phoebe and often, I really will."  And I tell her I will do the same for her and her son. 
I leave, heart lifted ...here she is years away, pushing nearly one hundred years of living ...and she is willing to make a change, remake her life, start afresh ...she has lived on in a good way ...knowing and loving God ...her lifeboat.  I think back to my months of caring for her, and how often I'd laughed with her ...hunted her down only to find her flirting in the library, grumbling after that "he's married ...wouldn't you know!"  Or chasing down a handsome young security guard with her walker, his panic stricken face, pleading with me to reign this old lady in as she yells "I'm a cougar, God made me that way."  Approaching her apartment each visit I could just follow the music, KISS 108 blasting in her apartment twenty four hours a day, "Oh, I love this song!" as yet another song plays that I tell my kids to turn off.  "I tell everyone here I'm moving cause I can't get anyone to dance with me ...you know, really dance, to this kind of music ...to really move."  Yes, this broken-hearted women has lived, and loved ...and made me laugh.  I will miss her ...but no doubt, I will always remember the brief joy she brought to my life.
Peaceful travels dear friend.  And when the time comes ...safe home.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.