While I was on an extended stay out of the country, the thought kept coming to my mind "What about Gail?" Gail, in her late 80's, had never had children, her husband had died, and she lived alone. We were in a Madrigal Recorder group together. Most of the members were elderly, but Gail was special to me. We had known each other for thirty years.
Gail said what she missed most about her husband was his telling her to go to bed at night. She said without that, she frequently puttered along until 3 or 4 in the morning, and then was upset with herself the next day. Gail went to the YMCA, sang in the church choir, was Vice President of the local AARP, enjoyed her Bible study group, taught English Country Dancing twice a week, and volunteered at several historic societies.
As soon as I returned home from Europe, I called her at 10:00 pm and told her to go to bed. She laughed her delightful laugh and said "Oh, thank you dear. Yes, I must."
The next night, I called again and asked what time she had gone to bed the night before. "Well, it was three o'clock, but I will try harder tonight." And try she did. Little by little she started going to bed earlier and earlier. This made it easier for her to get to her YMCA exercise class without "rushing"!
I found she needed help with going to the doctor, organizing her medicines, learning computers, buying groceries, and getting a new microwave and television when they broke. I assured her that I had "adopted" her and would be her daughter until God separated us.
She already had two fake hips and a fake knee, so she decided to go for the complete set. She had her last knee replaced and I visited her every day in the hospital. She was so loving and appreciative. She had an infection that wouldn't go away. We had caregivers come in to watch her and help with her meals and take her to the hospital for daily infusions of medicine. Still, I called every night and told her to "Go to bed."
Gail and I were not of the same faith, and I was respectful of her beliefs. I called her pastor and asked him to make sure she had a Bible study she could attend. When none was available, she studied with another group.
I asked her one day what she thought happened to someone when they died. Her face lost all of its joy as she said darkly, "I know the answer to that. We all dissolve into a big mass of spirit." She almost cried.
I tried to look up what happens to you when you die on the internet according to her faith. Nothing.
I asked a minister of her faith. He snapped his fingers. "Just like that" he said.
"What happens just like that? Where do you go? What happens to your spirit?"
He snapped his fingers and said "In a twinkling of an eye. Just like that" and winked.
I asked her if she really believed she turned into nothing, and if she could feel her dear husband's spirit watching over her. She admitted she did. We discussed how people could interpret different things from the Bible, but there were many other interpretations as well. I told her to listen to her heart. She was happier. She now had hope in death.
My daughter moved 1000 miles away to go to college. I missed her terribly, but we discussed how her phone calls and letters let me know she was happy so it was easier to let go. We discussed how it must be in heaven and how much nicer it would be if her husband could get her a message saying he was happy!
Little by little she grew weaker. Her caregivers brought her gifts and fussed over her. She was so delightful that everyone loved her.
She would tell the unbelievable story of how she used to be cranky and intolerant and decided in her 50's that she needed to be nice to other people, so she chose to change. It is hard to imagine her not being sweet!
There was a ball given in her honor. She was too sick to attend.
She started reaching out for her husband in her sleep and calling his name. She developed a serious cough and was unable to eat or talk.
We took her to the hospital, but her heart gave out. The doctor asked her if she wanted him to keep her going artificially. She asked him to let her go. I held her hand as she quietly passed away. I know she is now dancing with her husband in heaven. It is over.
I feel I ought to cry and have regrets, but there are none. I am grateful for all the blessings I have received in a relationship that was at times a burden and a responsibility I didn't "have" to do. But the overwhelming blessings of this special friendship cannot be measured in mortal terms. I am happy to have listened and obeyed the still small voice that told me she needed someone to remind her to "Go to bed."
1 comment:
When I was growing up in Ohio, all of my Aunts and Uncles lived far away. The "GaiLees" - my Aunty Gail and Uncle Lee lived closest, and perhaps because we saw them most often, they were my favorites. Occasionally we visited them in Pennsylvania. Much more often they would visit us, especially at Christmas. The visits were always a treat.
Somehow, Gail seemed a special individual. She reminded me of fine china which needs and deserves special care and respect. If I misbehaved with her I would feel especially ashamed of my callousness.
In spite of my perception of her fragility, Gail (along with Leland) visited our family numerous times at the far end of Little Silver Lake in Ontario Canada. I did not think of Gail as a person who would chose to camp out, and sleep in a tent, and count on the skill of those who are out fishing to put dinner on the table. But she did all that, and she also went in the boat with a fishing rod in hand to contribute to the evening fare.
Ever since I can remember, the big cove just across the lake from our campsite was called "Gail's Cove" for the time she hooked a really big bass there. One year Aunt Gail and Uncle Lee even brought the venerable Mrs. Cowen (Gail's mother) along to our vacation spot. I realize now what a huge act of spirit and toughness that actually was!
I will especially remember my Aunt Gail for this kind of spirit. She showed me how civility, politeness, and consideration for others can be perfect companions to a great toughness of spirit, and zest for life.
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