(forgive the reminiscence, but a time for remembering a time of a great hurtful goodbye to a wonderful hound grandma)
29 years ago, I took a vacation from Columbus, Ohio to Minneapolis, Minnesota. My mama was going to have some surgery, so I planned to take my week being there.
I arrived the Sat. or Sun. before. Then Monday she went in to fix the carotid artery that was 98% clogged. She came out with a wicked stitching on her neck and tired. She was told no overtaxing, which was a joke. I ran to the store, came home and found her vacuuming. Up and down the stairs. Stubborn Finn but her daughter is more of one.
We watched old slides of her and dad, slides of us 3 kids growing up.
The flowers kept coming to the house, and mom remarked how beautiful to see these while alive.
April 12, I had a flight out of MSP. I woke to find no one there. Just silence. The coffee was ready (thanks, mom) but that was all. Then I saw the note on the kitchen table. The very same table that I grew up eating meals.
‘Your mom is having problems with her arm. I’m taking her to the hospital. Have your bags packed and I’ll get you to the airport on time. Love you, Dad.’
I never saw that airport for weeks. He picked me up and rushed me to the hospital. She was having a massive stroke.
I remember the voices but today, the dark halls on a Sunday. Massive stroke, I think more of it as trying to stop the lava from a volcanic eruption.
We sat with her for hours, talked to her, shared some laughs, let her say her thoughts. Then the reactions dimmed. She could barely raise her right arm to us to hold. She lost her speech and could only communicate through those kind eyes. She went further away, she was sedated, and we went back to the empty house.
My brothers arrived the next day, April 13.
They had their time with mom. To say I love you.
By then, the results were there was a spark of activity in the brain but very small.
We said goodbye April 13.
A vibrant, vivacious, loving soul left this world and served to watch over us.
A smile, a hug, a laughHer love is her legacy.
Barbara Helen Halvery WellerJanuary 8, 1930 – April 13, 1987