Kay dropped the body
My sister Kay died yesterday, surrounded by family, her four children, her husband, four sisters and both parents. She died at the home of her daughter meggan, peacefully with no pain. We celebrated her youngest child’s birthday this past Saturday because Kay said she could not wait for the 17th, Katie’s day. Katie had been called from her studies in London. My out-of-state sisters were here too.
Kay would have turned 57 on April 7th. She said she couldn’t’ wait for that either. The vigil was as any other, with each person grieving in their own way. The only sign of death was the absence of breath.
The hospice nurse came to do paperwork and help Meggan clean Kay before the funeral men arrived. Mama took Daddy home before they came. He didn’t need to see that. He is 82 and stayed on the front porch most of the time, once he’d seen Kay. He’s been slow this week, wouldn’t even go to church Sunday. If you knew Daddy you’d know how wrong that is.
I got lost on the way, driving in the rain, and had to sing “Playmate come out and play with me” at the top of my lungs in the car to keep going. I knew Kay was passing as I drove but I had a sliver of time. We used to sing that al the time as kids. We liked the part about climbing an apple tree and sliding down a cellar door. We had both those at our house.
Kay’s grandbabies were at a friend’s home playing with other little fellas. They’ve been on and around her hospital bed for months, in her home, in the real hospital and lately their own home. Hard to think this all started just last June. The boys will remember their Grandma Kay taking the whole family to Disneyworld in July as her honeymoon after marrying Papaw George a bit earlier than the planned September wedding.
Kay was the one who always came to visit me, down at the other end of the country, too far for the rest of the family, but never Kay. She was my roommate and bedmate growing up, two years younger than me. She went right into nursing school after high school and never looked back. Her hands have tended more folks than we’ll ever know. Both her daughters will be nurses; one already is. The hospital where she worked the last three decades is having a big trivia night in May for her benefit. I think it’s already sold out.
Now who will come watch the forsythia bloom with me? Who will laugh at the robins with me? Who will take me for fast rides in the country because we found the fields beautiful?
She said to look for her in the water, that’s where she wanted to go live and make her heaven. Fountains, rivers, creeks, oceans, waterfalls …
I’m grateful her pastor has a soothing voice and is a man of gentle words. Maybe I can get through the funeral Saturday without drawing attention. I just want to blend in and not slap everyone with my pain. Gary will lead me through it all, my good strong rock. But I’ve seen him cry too. Kay was a good sister to him.
This morning the Siteman Cancer Center called to say I’ve been accepted by a pretty hotshot kidney cancer specialist, one who will give me more options should the need arise. In the meantime he can help supervise my surveillance, as they call it, and get a jump on things. I owe it to Kay to keep myself alert and healthy. Her grandkids will need a lap and some home-cooking now and then. I can teach them to dig in the dirt and plant pansies like Kay loved.
Now I just need to pull away and find some task to busy myself with. I think there’s chicken needs roasting and cake to be baked. It solves nothing but the shaking of my hands. If I have to wipe away the tears now and then to see what I’m going, I might as well get used to that for awhile. They come and go, I expect.
Kay would have turned 57 on April 7th. She said she couldn’t’ wait for that either. The vigil was as any other, with each person grieving in their own way. The only sign of death was the absence of breath.
The hospice nurse came to do paperwork and help Meggan clean Kay before the funeral men arrived. Mama took Daddy home before they came. He didn’t need to see that. He is 82 and stayed on the front porch most of the time, once he’d seen Kay. He’s been slow this week, wouldn’t even go to church Sunday. If you knew Daddy you’d know how wrong that is.
I got lost on the way, driving in the rain, and had to sing “Playmate come out and play with me” at the top of my lungs in the car to keep going. I knew Kay was passing as I drove but I had a sliver of time. We used to sing that al the time as kids. We liked the part about climbing an apple tree and sliding down a cellar door. We had both those at our house.
Kay’s grandbabies were at a friend’s home playing with other little fellas. They’ve been on and around her hospital bed for months, in her home, in the real hospital and lately their own home. Hard to think this all started just last June. The boys will remember their Grandma Kay taking the whole family to Disneyworld in July as her honeymoon after marrying Papaw George a bit earlier than the planned September wedding.
Kay was the one who always came to visit me, down at the other end of the country, too far for the rest of the family, but never Kay. She was my roommate and bedmate growing up, two years younger than me. She went right into nursing school after high school and never looked back. Her hands have tended more folks than we’ll ever know. Both her daughters will be nurses; one already is. The hospital where she worked the last three decades is having a big trivia night in May for her benefit. I think it’s already sold out.
Now who will come watch the forsythia bloom with me? Who will laugh at the robins with me? Who will take me for fast rides in the country because we found the fields beautiful?
She said to look for her in the water, that’s where she wanted to go live and make her heaven. Fountains, rivers, creeks, oceans, waterfalls …
I’m grateful her pastor has a soothing voice and is a man of gentle words. Maybe I can get through the funeral Saturday without drawing attention. I just want to blend in and not slap everyone with my pain. Gary will lead me through it all, my good strong rock. But I’ve seen him cry too. Kay was a good sister to him.
This morning the Siteman Cancer Center called to say I’ve been accepted by a pretty hotshot kidney cancer specialist, one who will give me more options should the need arise. In the meantime he can help supervise my surveillance, as they call it, and get a jump on things. I owe it to Kay to keep myself alert and healthy. Her grandkids will need a lap and some home-cooking now and then. I can teach them to dig in the dirt and plant pansies like Kay loved.
Now I just need to pull away and find some task to busy myself with. I think there’s chicken needs roasting and cake to be baked. It solves nothing but the shaking of my hands. If I have to wipe away the tears now and then to see what I’m going, I might as well get used to that for awhile. They come and go, I expect.