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RIP Mollie
On Saturday morning I learned of the death of my Aunt Mollie, who was married to my mother's brother Uncle Mike for 49 years. I've delayed this post to give the news the time to travel.
There was something I didn't get the chance to do before she left us, a task written on a yellow post-it note next to my laptop these last few weeks:
"Write to Mollie" the note says. We didn't usually correspond directly, but I know from experience that newsy letters from friends and family can provide some comfort and distraction to the seriously ill in hospital. News travelled back and forth, but filtered through Mum and her brother and sister and was a step removed. It wasn't to be a farewell letter, just a bring-you-up-to-speed note about my branch of the family. Little things that might not have made it onto the family news desk. I have some regrets that I didn't get to send that letter, but she was in and out so often I didn't really believe that the clock was ticking with any particular urgency, that the time was upon us.
The clock had been ticking for a long time. Mollie was born with only one kidney, and eventually needed a donor to survive. This was provided by her husband Michael, who proved to be compatible in every possible way. But over time and as she became more frail she suffered terrible injuries from falls, cancer treatments, chest and heart problems, and finally kidney failure. She suffered more pain and indignity than anyone should be forced to confront in their lifetime, but she did so with such quiet grace, strength, faith, love and dignity the world may never see again.
But she was in pain at the end; terrible pain with no end save the final one. We hope and believe that her way was eased. And so when I heard the news of her loss I was glad. Glad that her pain was over, and glad that such a sweet person had been in my life. Glad that this happened before it became necessary to separate husband and wife into two separate facilities. Terribly sad that this happened a few months shy of their 50th wedding anniversary.
Mollie was the most saint-like person I have ever known, and I do not use those words lightly. She suffered, but was kind and good, and had a strong bond with her god and church. She was also intelligent, funny and friendly. Many people will miss her: family, friends and community all. I am confident that their good wishes and support will extend to support Uncle Mike and the cousins. He has been dealt a great and terrible loss, but he is not alone. Her community was his community. They will mourn together.
Goodbye Mollie. I'm sure that the flights of angels are already queueing (politely and in good order) for the honor of singing thee to thy rest.
There was something I didn't get the chance to do before she left us, a task written on a yellow post-it note next to my laptop these last few weeks:
"Write to Mollie" the note says. We didn't usually correspond directly, but I know from experience that newsy letters from friends and family can provide some comfort and distraction to the seriously ill in hospital. News travelled back and forth, but filtered through Mum and her brother and sister and was a step removed. It wasn't to be a farewell letter, just a bring-you-up-to-speed note about my branch of the family. Little things that might not have made it onto the family news desk. I have some regrets that I didn't get to send that letter, but she was in and out so often I didn't really believe that the clock was ticking with any particular urgency, that the time was upon us.
The clock had been ticking for a long time. Mollie was born with only one kidney, and eventually needed a donor to survive. This was provided by her husband Michael, who proved to be compatible in every possible way. But over time and as she became more frail she suffered terrible injuries from falls, cancer treatments, chest and heart problems, and finally kidney failure. She suffered more pain and indignity than anyone should be forced to confront in their lifetime, but she did so with such quiet grace, strength, faith, love and dignity the world may never see again.
But she was in pain at the end; terrible pain with no end save the final one. We hope and believe that her way was eased. And so when I heard the news of her loss I was glad. Glad that her pain was over, and glad that such a sweet person had been in my life. Glad that this happened before it became necessary to separate husband and wife into two separate facilities. Terribly sad that this happened a few months shy of their 50th wedding anniversary.
Mollie was the most saint-like person I have ever known, and I do not use those words lightly. She suffered, but was kind and good, and had a strong bond with her god and church. She was also intelligent, funny and friendly. Many people will miss her: family, friends and community all. I am confident that their good wishes and support will extend to support Uncle Mike and the cousins. He has been dealt a great and terrible loss, but he is not alone. Her community was his community. They will mourn together.
Goodbye Mollie. I'm sure that the flights of angels are already queueing (politely and in good order) for the honor of singing thee to thy rest.