Edith fell ill last June both literally and figuratively. She passed away six weeks shy of her 100th birthday.
I first learned that Edith was in trouble when I got a call from her son, Gene, telling me she had fallen twice. He had found her on the floor the day before and in the bathtub that morning. He called the medics who took her to the hospital. All sorts of pictures went through my head about what that looked like. But, I was wrong as Edith patiently explained to me when Ronnie and I visited her in the hospital. She explained it many times.
It seems she was going to change from her day clothes to her night clothes while sitting on the edge of the tub before falling backwards into the tub. She then spent the night in the tub before Gene found her the next day.
In the hospital, I asked her how she felt. “Oh, I feel fine. I don't know why I'm here.”
“You're here because you fell and spent the night in the tub. Do you remember that?”
“Oh yes, I was quite comfortable.”
“Were you cold?”
“Oh, no. It was very comfortable. I had a pillow, I was fine.”
Ronnie chimed in, “You had a pillow? How did that get in there?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it was a towel but it was very comfortable. But, I still don’t know why I’m here.”
“It’s because you have pneumonia,” explained Ronnie.
“Well, I don’t feel sick. I feel just fine.”
“You have at temperature of 101,” I added.
“Oh, I wonder why.”
“Because you have pneumonia.” Ronnie again.
“Well, how did I get that?”
Ronnie: “It just happens.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Ronnie: “You just get pneumonia. It’s like getting the cold or the flu. It just happens.”
Edith pondered, “I wonder how that could be? How could I have landed in here?”
We both say, “You fell and spent the night in the tub.”
To which Edith responded, “Well, I feel fine. How long am I going to have to be here?”
Me: “Until your temperature gets down.”
“I’m ready to go home now.”
Me: “You’ll have to wait until you are better.”
“Who knew that could happen to me.” A few minutes pass. “I just don’t understand why I’m here.” And, the three of us go patiently around again.
It was the first time I experienced Edith not being on top of things. Ronnie was exceptionally patient and loving.
Edith said, “I have to go to the bathroom, but they said I need someone with me. I don’t know why.”
“I’ll go and get someone, But, I might have to tell them I’m your daughter.” Ronnie replied smiling.
“I’d be pleased to have you as my daughter,” Edith stated. Ronnie was touched by the thought.
On Ronnie’s return, Edith went on. “Can you tell me why I’m here?”
Ronnie: “Because you spent the night in the bathtub and have a fever. Do you remember spending the night in the tub?”
“Oh, yes, I was very comfortable. But, I was mad at myself for falling and figured I’d just sleep there.”
“Do you think it’s normal to spend the night in the tub?” Ronnie queried.
“No, I don’t suppose it is. But, I could have gotten out any time I wanted. Gene didn’t have to get me out.”
“Oh? Do you remember Gene had to get John (Edith’s grandson and next door neighbor) to lift you out?” Ronnie again.
“Oh, yes. I remember that. But, the next thing I know I’m here and I don’t know why. I guess I just keep asking the same question.”
Ronnie responded, “Yes, but that’s okay. You just ask when you need to, and I’ll keep answering you.”
I marveled at my partner’s patience and kindness. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen it before, but it was usually directed to me. I wasn’t generally able to observe from a distance.
I was texting Edith’s granddaughter, Sarena, who lives in Tennessee. She was trying to decide when to come. I said, “You need to come sooner than later.” I had no idea how much time Edith had. When she was taken to the hospital, it was discovered she had a grapefruit sized tumor on her back just behind her right shoulder. No one knew it was there. It hadn’t been there for her physical eight months prior. It was cancer, of course, making it’s way internally to her lungs.
Sarena, a massage therapist, was texting me asking if she should cancel her clients for the next day and come as soon as possible. I didn’t want to be responsible for that. I told her it would probably be okay to fly out the following day. I fervently hoped that was the right decision. It turned out we had a lot more time than I thought.
We came up to Des Moines, well technically Burien, from Olympia several days in a row to see Edith in the hospital. Two nights later, we came and met Sarena in the hallway. We hugged like long lost friends. Sarena was exhausted. She was staying at Edith’s and spent most of the day and evening at the hospital.
Edith had been living alone in her house since her husband, Wave, passed in 2001. John lived next door. Gene and Mary (Gene’s wife) lived two doors down. Edith prided herself on her ability to care for herself, tend her garden, and freeze and can her crops each fall. She had told Ronnie and I only a few months before that she wasn’t going to have a garden that year. She was only going to plant tomatoes and cabbage next to the house. At the time, Ronnie and I exchanged looks. We knew it was the beginning of the end. Was she going to make it to November and her 100th birthday?
Sarena told us it was so painful to have to tell her Gramma that she wouldn’t be able to go home. Sarena cried telling us that daily care at home for Edith was too expensive. It pained her to tell Edith she couldn’t go home. In the coming days, Sarena, Gene, and Mary worked with the social worker to find a small adult family home (AFH) that Edith could go to.
Still, as Ronnie, and I sat with Edith, she kept asking, “When can I go home?” If we tried to explain she couldn’t go home, she just said, “I feel just fine. I can take care of myself.” It wasn’t true. We knew it wasn’t true, but it was a truth Edith just couldn’t accept.
She started on occupational and physical therapy in the hospital. I thought the mantra should be, “Edith, if you can walk down the hall, get yourself to the bathroom, and make a meal, you can go home. Do you feel like walking?”
Her response was, “No, not right now, I’m just too tired.” She wasn’t able to demonstrate her physical capacity but her mind was undeterred.
Sarena, Gene, and Mary found a AFH in Des Moines which was just a mile from Edith’s house. A younger woman and her sister-in-law ran the home. There were only six or so beds. When Edith got settled, Ronnie and I went back to visit. She was happy to see us. Then, she wanted to know when she could go home.
Sarena was there looking very tired and stressed. She met with the social worker and nurse. But, said she had to go home to be with her husband. She wasn’t sure if it was okay to leave her Gramma. No one could answer that.
As is her nature, despite wanting to go home, Edith found the good things about the group home. She said it was pretty and she liked the people. She liked the food the woman cooked and thought she was a good cook. It was good to see her eating. She had been eating less and less. I thought that at least during this last phase of her life, she wouldn’t be so lonely.
While Sarena was still there, she took Edith to the beauty parlor to have her hair done. It was so familiar to see the lovely cloud of fluffy white hair that Edith always had.
A few weeks later, we came up after Sarena had gone home. Gene and Mary were meeting with the hospice nurse. Mary came over to Ronnie and I. She said, “We talked to Edith. She doesn’t want anymore treatment. Just comfort things. What do you guys think?”
We agreed that was the best thing. Then, Mary added, “We talked about what to do after she passed. I wanted to tell you after we went over her list, Edith added, ‘And don’t forget Joceile.’” Tears were in my eyes. I thanked her for telling me.
I was so touched to be included, to be important in this woman’s world. Although, I grew up several doors down from her. I had never been close to Edith until the last 20 years. She had taught my mother to sew and watched her grow up. She was my brother, Zack’s, godmother. But, I had always been a bit afraid of her. She was so firm and seemingly unyielding.
I did not feel warmth from her until in 1998 she took my Granny in to care for her. Unbeknownst to us, it turned out to be my Granny’s last four days. But, she died being happily cared for by a relative by marriage. It was the way of things in farm country where Edith and Granny had grown up in the south. I saw Edith in a whole new light. It changed our relationship forever.
I had been calling Edith every week for several years. We talked about her garden, her children, granddaughters, and great granddaughter, and her favorite TV shows. Now, calling her became more difficult. She had been having more difficulty this year following any change in the conversation. Allowing for transition time, we were able to cover our same old topics.
At the AFH, she began mostly sitting in a recliner chair. She stopped watching TV. She stopped going outside. One of my topics, things she remembered from long ago were now almost impossible for her to track. I realized I had asked her all the questions about the past that I was ever going to be able to ask. There wasn’t much more to talk about except, “Ronnie and I are thinking of you and sending you our love.” At the end of every conversation, I said, “I love you.” Her voice would get a softer tone as she said, “Love you too.” I was afraid for the day she might not be able to give me that response.
I was able to visit her at the AFH a couples times alone. Ronnie was able to come with me a couple times. She slept more and more. She had a hard time following conversations. After about fifteen minutes, she was too tired to talk. We sat with her. “You don’t have to talk, Edith.” We’ll just eat our lunch. She struggled to stay awake.
The tumor kept growing at a rapid pace. Toward the end, it was melon size. She wasn’t in pain. She kept saying she was fine even when she had absolutely no inclination to do anything other than sit. She had some difficulty getting comfortable leaning back in the chair due to the bulk of the tumor. I never knew when my visit would be the last. I knew it would come.
Ronnie always called Edith a Force of Nature. Strong and independent, she kept living. Some times, she had trouble choking a bit. Later, she needed oxygen. I knew one day I would get the call.
From the outset, I was mostly texting Mary. Gene wasn’t a good texter. I would check with Mary for an update. I had learned from when Edith was in the hospital that she was not a reliable reporter on the state of her health. Gene would take her to her doctor’s appointments and drive her around. Mary reported that one day they were going by her house. Gene asked her if she wanted to stop in. “No,” she said, “I’m just too tired.” When I heard that, I knew the end was getting closer.
One night a few weeks ago, I was meditating before I went to sleep. The meditating guide was telling me to check in with my body from head to toe. As soon as I started, I was teleported to a place where I felt Edith getting ready to leave. With my imaginary body, I could feel her leaving. It was a powerful feeling of her moving out of her body with me as a witness. It lasted several minutes. I was surprised. I doubted I had actually felt the moment of her leaving. In my heart, I wished her a safe journey.
The next day, I texted Mary asking about Edith’s status. Mary’s brief reply was, “No change.” I wasn’t surprised. Sarena came towards the end of September but didn’t stay very long. Edith was glad to see her. Both of them were sorry Sarena couldn’t stay longer. Ronnie and I made our last visit at the end of September. Edith was surprised and glad to see us. But, she simply could not stay awake for more than a few minutes. I held her hand and sat with her. As we left, I cried. It was not because her dying was wrong. It was the pain of saying good-bye to such a long and later, loving relationship.
It was the morning of September 28, 2017 that I woke up to the text from Mary that I had been expecting but dreading:
“Hi, Joceile and Ronnie. Sorry to tell you that Edith passed away at 1:00 this morning. Her breathing got real bad yesterday. She went peacefully in her sleep. Sarena is coming this evening. Will know more later in the day.” When Ronnie woke up, I told her. We sat in stunned silence. The Force of Nature had passed on.
Edith’s death is the final passing of my grandparent’s generation. There is no one left who remembers those days before all the children were born. When Edith and my Granny were young and married to two brothers. Two brothers from Arkansas who came to Washington to work for Boeing.
A few days later, Mary told me that Sarena wanted to start going through things at Edith’s house. This was basically the culling of accumulated things from when Edith and Wave moved into the house in 1957. The year I was born. Mary texted me, “Is there anything you want to remember her by?” I responded I was only interested in pictures of Edith, my grandparents, and my mother, father, and brother.
Later, Mary told me there were a lot of slides because Wave was very into them at the time they were popular. Having spent my time looking at slides as a kid, I said, “No, thank you. I’m good.” If you’ve ever looked at slides one at a time by popping them into a reader with a light, taking a look, popping it out, and then putting in the next one. You know, life is too short.
A day or so later, I texted Sarena to ask her how it was going. She responded, “It is strange being here without Gramma. Finding some interesting things.”
“What kind of interesting things?”
“Oil stock certificates from 1910. Property deeds from around the same time. Also a book... How to Attain and Practice the Ideal Sex Life (1940).”
My response was, “No matter how old we are, we all were younger at one time.”
Ronnie’s response was, “Where was that book hiding?”
“In the bottom of Gramma’s dresser drawer.”
Ronnie and I laughed. Such a tried and true place to hide your secret sex things. So far, no vibrators.
Later, Sarena, Gene, and Mary, found the attached photo of Edith in her twenties which would have been about 1940 give or take. In the picture, Edith is holding a guitar and smiling. It is an Edith I have never seen before. Both Ronnie and I said, “I didn’t know she played the guitar.” There is so much I didn’t know about Edith’s life. I asked her every question I could think of but there will always be the unanswered questions.
The night before she passed, Hugh Hefner’s death was on the news. He was 91. The day before that, Ronnie’s 90 year old cousin in Montreal told Ronnie that her best friend from early childhood, Eva who was also 90, passed away from a two year process of cancer. Ronnie’s family is Jewish.
Ronnie and I pondered the arrival of Edith, Hugh, and Eva at the gates of heaven. We figured Eva showed up and they said, “The kosher banquet food is over there.” Edith showed up and they said, “So, glad to see you. We’ve been expecting you.” Hugh showed up and they said pointing, “Take that non-stop elevator down.”
Edith’s other granddaughter and great granddaughter are coming for Edith’s service later this week. Ronnie and I are not going to make it because we are out of town. I am clear that nothing I do from here on affects Edith. My only consolation are those three words she said at the end of her list, “Don’t forget Joceile.” With those words and her sweet ending to our phone calls, I know she loved me.
Even Forces of Nature eventually turn to dust. “I love you, Edith.” The soft voice answers, “Love you too.”
Joceile
10.5.17
For another Edith story, go to: joceile7.blogspot.com, “My ‘Aunt’ Edith”
