I went to The Green House, an Alzheimer home where I play every other week. I had been there on July 4th, and we sang patriotic songs. (I played and sang, and they nodded, or mouthed the words, or listened with eyes peacefully closed.) One lady struck me as being better than I had ever seen. She usually pushed a walker around, and had bright, inquisitive eyes, though she never spoke or sang a word. She usually couldn't sit still, which caused a couple other ladies anxiety as they thought she was going to fall. On the Fourth she was walking around with no walker! I was happy for her and commented to the helper what a great change.
Went back the 18th. Our group had shriveled to only 4 ladies, and I asked where Ms. M was. The LPN on duty waved her hand in a circle by her ear, which I always thought meant "went bonkers." When she could see I didn't understand her signal, she gestured toward the ceiling. Light dawned. I whispered, "You mean she went to Heaven?" She nodded.
I found myself uncomfortably shocked. I know these people are close to the end of their lives, and I have noticed they love songs about Heaven. But it simply never occurred to me someone would die on my watch. I mean, I had just talked and smiled with her, held her hands and commented how cold they were, patted her little skinny arm that was purple with bruises from falling, and told her to be careful. She had gazed at me; she was all there. And suddenly she was no more. I wonder, as I've heard some say, if she had started "breathing the air of Heaven", which would explain why she was suddenly walking without her trusty walker.
I only know it shook me up. Here, and then GONE! We all are terminal; we say that glibly and yet don't believe it for a moment. But it is true. I'm not grieving for Ms. M...I know she is dancing and bopping around, able to clap, smile and sing again! But I am more conscious of trying to "live like you're dying." Trying to make each day count, saying "I love you" often; even communicating with God more.
Jim always says he wants to go to Heaven, but not on the next load. I have so many family and friends who aren't ready, I could never pray "Come quickly, Lord Jesus." But I must live ready.
♫♫♪♫♪ from Marg
Marg Marshall, 3:08 PM
1 Comments:
Wow! Very moving. I got goosebumps reading this. And I agree with Jim. It's like our 86 year old mother says. "I'm ready to go to Heaven but I'm not in any hurry."
