This evening I received a call from my cousin, Aunt Ruth's only child, telling me she had finally passed on on Twelfth Night. She made it to her 91st birthday in Dec., Christmas, the New Year, and today was her grandson's birthday. He is a grown man, now, but when my cousin told her he was there and could she sing him Happy Birthday, she had enough comprehension and coherency to do so. That was just about the very last thing she ever said or did before she died. Just wanted to share that "musical moment" with you all and pay tribute to one incredibly tough woman. One whom I shall miss terribly.

Thanks,

kat

Sorry to hear about the passing of you aunt....but what a lovely last thing to do or say before dying...

take care.

luvyakat

- Ian B

Grinnin' and tearin' at the same time, here...

Thank you for letting us into that moment, Kat.

This woman was incredible. She had survived and recovered from a broken back; a heart attack; a fall outside her garage, just two years ago, which broke her shoulder. She drug herself to her kitchen door, pulled herself up the steps and into the kitchen, used the counter to pull herself up to the phone, THEN didn't dial 911. Oh, no, she was a proper lady and wanted family first, so she tried her daughter, who wasn't home; her granddaughter who wasn't home, then, finally the neighbour, who was home, who immediately called 911! She went trhough surgery for that, rehab, and went right back to her aerobics class, bowling, and her social activities!

She reminded me of the Energiser Bunny or the Timex watch that "took a licking and kept on ticking." This last bout she recovered, almost fullly, from several small strokes which left her speechless and in a wheelchair, until, as I said, about two months ago, when she finally had to go to hospice.

Like my mom, she had twinkly eyes, beautiful rosy cheeks, and a gorgeous smile. She had a quirky little laugh and a shrug for any problem which she just didn't let daunt her. She taught school in the "early days." I spent part of one summer with her and learned that one peels tomatoes when fixing a "posh" salad and she helped me sew my own school clothes for that fall, just like my mom.

On her birthday, Dec. 18th, she sat up in bed, crossed her arms, and announced to all and sundry that she was not going to go to work that day because it was her birthday!

She also was aware that she didn't make a lot of sense, recently, and would giggle at her daughter, after making an out of context statement, then remark, "I'm not making sense, am I?"

The last musical event she went to was the symphony orchestra where she lived in Colorado, just a couple or so weeks ago. It was difficult; she had to have two large oxygen bottles and was in a wheelchair. She was in and out of "being here" for most of the concert, but when it was over, she asked if that was it, it seemed so short. Seems the last piece they played was about all that she'd heard and remembered. It was Strauss' Death and Transfiguration.

Rest well, Aunt Ruth, you've earned it.

kat

Oh, yeah, right! After all you've said about her, I seriously doubt that she's resting -- she's probably up there in Heaven organizing family reunions, or a bake-off, or setting up a harp repair station, or...

But whatever she's doing, she's having the time of her life -- I'm sure of that.

This is a genuine enquiry, because I don't understand it. Does that mean that when elderly people do 'slip in and out of being here', that they are actually aware of doing so?

Sorry, I really don't mean to be intrusive. It had just never occurred to me that they might be aware of occasionally not making sense.

All the best - Ian B

I have worked in nursing homes and hospitls where people often didn't make any sense. I very rarely encountered a person who had this ability. There was one woman who'd had a stroke, but she was in her 60's, fully cognizant of life around her, time frame, etc. She could only say "oh gawd" and she would laugh at herself everytime because she knew it made no sense in answer to such questions as "do you want a bath now" but it was all she was able to articulate.

As for my aunt, my guess is it probably isn't that rare for people to have moments of lucidity, but I don't think they often realise the rest of the time they are not making sense. Maybe someone who is more up to date in working with thelderly will come in and give us some more info.

She would say things such as "I'm only getting paid 3 cents per hour. I don't think that's fair and I don't want to work for that anymore. Then my cousin would say "It's okay, Mom. You've done well with your money and there is no need for you to work for 3 cents an hour, anymore." Or, Aunt Ruth would say "I have to go teach, now." Then she'd just get this impish kind of look, giggle and say that about not making much sense.

I think she had such a need to be in control, at all times, and the strength of will to go with it, that this may have facilitated her having that awareness where someone else may not. She may have used that iron will to boss others, but she expected no less from herself.

Personally, in addition to that above, I believe it was her higher consciousness which *came through* and allowed her to kind of watch herself from a distance, then to make the lucid comments. So that she was kind of "beside herself" observing; then within and coherent for a short time. I believe, from experience, that people who are ready to transition often take a walk on the other side and in the past, reliving certain moments and also preparing for their passing by checking out the new *digs.* In her case, I think her stubborness and fear of death kept her poor old body going longer than need be and that while that was happening, her spirit knew it was time and went travelling.

Of course, some doctor may come in here and tell us it all has to do with which synapses are firing in the brain, but I'd still believe in the spiritual side of it, regardless.:-)

Hope this makes some kind of sense. Thanks for asking!

kat

~Susan

Aunt Ruth, I think you got the whole thing right! You may be missed, but they'll miss you with a smile.

Spaw

My granny died 3 years back, about a week after her 90th b-day, and we all said that she'd held on for the party so no-one would be disappointed. 91 years of this life is quite an achievement, and she went on her way singing.

Bless you, D.