A short while ago, I met a lady named Jean. She was a polite woman, bearing all the good manners of someone who used proper social decorum with those she did not know well. I was included in that group. I spent an afternoon with her, and learned that Jean had come to Canada from her native country of England. That was quite sometime after serving as a nurse during WWII. I never learned where she had served, but the fact that she had impressed me. Jean never married. If she had family, she didnt mention them. She moved about in the dark of her apartment possibly because her sight was failing, and quite badly from what I could gather. Her hearing was dimming and so I made sure to patiently speak louder and wait for her response. Jean lived alone all of her life and apart from Sunday services with her church group seemed very comfortable to remain alone, in the dark of her now fading world and with little conversation except to share a memory of years ago. I heard today that she had celebrated a birthday recently and this is how she passed into her 97th year. She was a fiercely independent soul and showed no hesitation for her own lot in life. A month ago, shed had a bad cold and perhaps it was because of friends from her church group that she was admitted to hospital. News filtered through the apartment building that while in hospital, her coughing had caused two ribs to crack. Before her release, we here at the building suffered a power outage that lasted just after Sunday lunch and carried on to supper the following Thursday evening. Even knowing this, the hospital released Jean anyway and sent her all alone into her apartment without heat or light. And here she remained, mostly in silence and still managing somehow. Except for the visits of her fellow church members and the help of a Personal Care Worker who stopped by 4 or 5 times a day, Jean pressed on alone, in the dark, not really seeing or hearing much at all. And today I learned that Jean had told a neighbour that shed lived life with purpose and there was nothing she had left undone or unfulfilled. She was happy with it all. And so it was for Jean, now 97 years old with two broken ribs, a case of pneumonia, half blind, more deaf than not, left mostly alone to sort out how she was going to press on. I had seen her once more. I think it was not long after she had come home from the hospital. It was January after the week long power failure and the bleakest Christmas power had been restored for at least a month. Jean was seen, as spry as ever, pushing her walker with determination, all signs of her recent infirmities seemingly overcome. Today I got news that Jean had died a few days just before the end of February. Im told shed expressed satisfaction, that her time had come to an end, and she was ready to face her maker. I felt sad. Jean on the other hand was practical and pragmatic. I wondered if she possibly never gave any of this more than a second thought. No regrets, just keep going because it was time to do that. Thats the way it is, when time is up and its time to go.
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 04:56:20 +0000
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