Saying Goodbye?

Visited a friend in the hospital yesterday. She’s 93 and lovely. High spirited. Sharp. Involved in life. She is our hostess with the mostess at church; opens the church at 6:30 am most Sundays. Makes the coffee; lays out the refreshments; organizes the kitchen for all who will follow that day. She places fresh water at the pulpit for the pastor. She makes sure the bulletins are collated and arranged for the ushers. She is “Miss Prep” at our church. 

Oh, and she is Mrs. Smile, too. A little bit of a thing. Sweet and loving. She seems to know each hug by name, especially yours. 

We stopped by her home three weeks ago to drive her to church. She had phoned to say she hadn’t slept and wouldn’t be going to church, but please stop by to pick up a tin of cookies for the coffee hour. We’d make the coffee and see after the usual chores. Trouble was, she didn’t respond to our knock, or the doorbell, or our frantic phone calls.

So off to church to spread the word and seek help. Pastor called her daughter and left a message that something wasn’t right. Then pastor called the police and requested a wellness check. I went back to her home to meet the police. 

After extended knocking (rather loudly!) our little lady friend came to the door, weak, sagging and pale. She gave me her weekly pledge envelope, a check donation for the local volunteer paper, a donation to the youth program at the church, and, of course, the tin of cookies. The police officer and I sized up the situation and called an ambulance. 

Later we learned she was treated for dehydration and exhaustion and admitted. Two days later she was moved to the county convalescent home for therapy and healing. But days later she was readmitted to the hospital with pneumonia, collapsed lung and in cardio-pulmonary crisis. 

Various friends and parishioners have visited her in hospital. She moves from private room to ICU and back. Her lungs are nearly inflated, pneumonia is still a huge problem. Her stamina is weak and coughing up the crud in the lungs is mostly ineffectual. 

When we visited, she had just had a treatment to loosen the phlegm so she could spit it up. She couldn’t. She was too weak. 

Ignoring all of that we had a nice visit. Laughed at circumstance. Gloried in the beautiful day outside the picture window. We made small talk. But something else was being said. As we prepared to leave, she held out her hand. I grasped it. Firm. Lingering. She looked me in the eye. Smiled. And thanked us for coming. 

But there was a lingering look in the eye. One that said “thanks for seeing me before I leave.” I said we love you. She remarked the same.  

The drive home was short and quiet. Later Rocky and I looked at each other and said, “She was saying goodbye.” 

I think that is true. Her graceful presence lit up the hospital the same as she lit up the church. Her spirit is very much with us; everyday; not just when we see her. She is a grace note to our lives. A very special light in our lives. 

She is still alive this morning. But for how long? And how will we miss her when she does pass to her rest? Time will tell but I think we will miss her always and remember her always, too. Life ever afer? 

Did I say her name? It is Grace! Of course it is.

May 17, 2012