My mother-in-law fell in March and broke her hip. For the next two weeks she lay in the bed, and for only a few minutes did she recognize anyone. The times were trying on Amy as she watched he mother slip from this world to the next. For me, those weeks were filled with wonder as I discovered that my wife, who is an only child, has several brothers and sisters.
Amy is blessed with close relationships with her cousins. They came to the hospital to offer their support and help to Amy. At the same time, these folks poured out their affections to “Aunt Mary.” Scott had taken her to dialysis treatments recently, and he developed a closeness during that time. He stood by her bedside, held her hand, and talked to her with a tenderness usually reserved for one’s parents. Tommy and his wife Debbie made several trips during the ordeal. Tommy, too, held Mary’s hand, and he offered prayers for her and the family. His brother Mike made sure to spend some time with his aunt as well. Tim lives in Nashville, but he took a day off in order to make a visit to the hospital. Melinda and her husband Howard frequented the hospital and sat with Amy during some rough times. John, the eldest cousin, brought his mother Georgia Lee and cooked a meal for us one afternoon. Jimmy came by as well.
We were fortunate to have had an area to sit close to the room. Most of the time, no fewer than six people filled the chairs on most days. Frances and Bruce were their almost every day and night. During those times these cousins, aunts, and uncle reminisced about the good old days when they were children. The stories about parents, and grandparents, as well as extended family members, had us laughing most of the time. Hospitals are dreary, depressing places, but that seating area was one of the happiest places of all. One voice would rise over another and then another would take the lead, and before long, Amy had to shush us lest the hospital staff throw us out.
What was so astounding to an outsider looking in was the love that these nieces and nephews had for their aunt. They kissed her and patted her. They cried to see Mary in such terrible shape, and they held hope that just for a minute she could have a clear moment so that they could tell her how loved she was.
After a two-week struggle, Mary passed. It was a blessing for her; it meant no more pain and frustrations with failing health and constant medical procedures. It also became a blessing for Amy. The cousins, as well as aunts and uncles, closed ranks and circled her with love. Their grief was close to Amy’s, and they assured her that all she needed to do was ask and help would be on the way. The nephews served as pall bearers, and they carried Mary to her resting place. They couldn’t have been sadder or more caring in their services if their own mothers had passed.
It’s been nearly a month since Mary died. The cousins have maintained their contact with Amy. I can only equate it with the close contact that Jim, Dal, and I kept after the death of our mother years ago. John and Joy, another cousin, have worked to put together a reunion in July. It will be a day with much food, fellowship, laughter, and tears. They’re all excited to be together.
One night at the hospital, I told Amy that she wasn’t an only child. She had a dozen brothers and sisters in her “cousins.” My thanks forever goes out to them for loving Amy and taking her in as a sister.
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