Parents

Oftentimes, while in my room at the hospital, I imagined Merrill and Deedy walking into my room. Mom would come over and give me a kiss on the cheek, and pat my hand. Dad would bend over and give me one of his "bony one-arm hugs" that I miss so much. They both would sit down and start chatting. Mom, of course, would tell me everything she'd read on the subject and make recommendations--and Dad, well, he would listen to my stuff, and then would encourage me to hang in there. . .he probably would have brought me something in a sack that he knew was my favorite.

Dad's death was a shock. I remember how hard it was to answer Dad when he looked at me straight on and asked me, "Am I dying?". I looked at him and simply said, "yes". I knew that he wouldn't want me to get emotional, so I responded as simply as I could. I was able to tell him how much I loved him before he died--even though I didn't feel that I necessarily needed to. He knew it, and I knew it--we'd spent a lifetime making sure. Our mourning was indescribable, until 14 months later.

Mom's passing was such a surprise. She said that she was "trying to check out"--but we really didn't believe it--even when the doctor said so. "Past the point of no return" was something like what he said. Later, we were told it was a heart attack that took her. Her final breaths were taken as all of her five children, and grandchildren, surrounded her bed. We watched peacefully as she drew her last breath and her full and loving heart beat it's last beat. Then we sobbed.

I had my parents for 55 years. Growing up I had one great-grandmother and 3 grandmothers and 2 grandfathers. I was in a five-generation picture until I was 51 years old! Now, they are all gone. They all "checked out".

I was born of goodly parents. Thank you Mom and Dad, for this pain I have in the middle of my chest. It's presence only confirms that I really had quite a life with you both. . .and now, Dad, guess who's at the top of the conveyor belt?