Good morning!
Then that evening we all gathered for
a hot-dog roast at our place. The kids
played outside and in the park behind us, and us old folks mostly sat and
visited, catching up on times past as well as looking ahead to the future. We especially enjoyed watching the smaller
kids manage to cook hot dogs and marshmallows over the open fire, and Zach kept
the fire pit stoked with lumber from time to time as the evening got cooler.
Sunday was the normal worship
services, with a moment of silence to remember those who had gone before, and
especially those who gave their lives in service. Sunday evening some of us went to Sterling to
swim and indulge in homemade ice cream at one of Pat’s relatives. This gathering at Bob and Lynn’s is quickly
becoming a tradition…one that the kids especially like, as the pool is heated
and there’s a slide as well.
And Monday we helped Laura clean up
the graduation stuff, taking the borrowed tables and chairs back to where they
came from. That afternoon, we went to
Harper to pick up the flowers and plants at the cemetery.
Monday evening, we were called
regarding Pat’s sister-in-law, who was in hospice care. She had taken a turn for the worse, and we
went to be with her and with Pat’s brother.
We stayed for awhile and visited with others in the family. Becky passed away about 1am the following
morning. Services will be held Saturday.
It’s been a full weekend.
Becky had been admitted to Hospice
House, an inpatient facility in Hutchinson.
It’s visually similar to a small hospital in many ways, but has an
entirely different purpose. The layout
of the facility is geared to families and those who are visiting loved
ones. Those who work there have a
special heart for the work, and care for the families as much as they do the
patient. At Hospice House, there’s no
such thing as a nurse that is too busy to stop and visit for a few
minutes. There are no loud noises, clanking
of medical machinery, or noisy carts going down halls. There’s no, “We don’t allow that here.”
Yes, there are indeed rules. But there is also compassion and a true
desire to serve…at least on the part of those I encountered there. I don’t know who the nurse is who was assigned
to Becky. But I do know from my
experiences in health care and Pat’s work in hospice in the past that this
woman knew exactly what she was doing.
She knew exactly what we were thinking.
And she knew exactly what to say, how & when to say it, what to do,
and how & when to do it. If ever I
saw a health care provider who combined the art of medicine with the equally
important art of compassion and care, it was her. And I’m speculating that everyone else who
works there is equally compassionate, caring, and professional.
So, looking ahead because of Becky’s
passing, I see family gatherings, a memorial service, some travel, and a lot of
visiting. As an In-law, even though we
consider ourselves all family, I pretty much stay on the sidelines unless
invited or asked. It’s the only
appropriate thing to do. Anything else
would be inserting myself into a place where I shouldn’t be.
Going to a cemetery where loved ones
are buried can be an humbling and yes, even emotional experience. The one we go to for the Plank family…the
church of my childhood’s cemetery…has both relatives and friends of mine. Aunts, grandparents, parents, uncles, shirt
tail cousins, and friends are there.
People I’ve known, especially in my young days in the church are
there. And those friends of mine who are
there…many of those friends were my age or even younger when they passed.
There are some in that church cemetery
I don’t know. And there are some there
who were very young…infants and small children who possibly had been caught up
in some epidemic of some kind in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. It is good, I think, to just walk the rows of
stones and remember again that person whose remains are a few feet underground.
I also remember having to mow the
cemetery as a boy. Although it’s only
three or so miles out of town, it felt like the middle of nowhere in the summer
heat for a boy of 10 or 11 years old.
There was no water, no phone, no buildings, and no shade. I had an 18 inch mower, and my older brother,
who mowed with me, had a 20 inch mower.
We didn’t cut a very wide swath.
It took most of a half day to get it all cut. The stones at that time had no concrete base,
so we had to trim around the stones with hand trimmers once we were finished
mowing.
I’m not complaining. Although I didn’t enjoy the work then, I know
now it “built character,” as my Dad would say, and as I now say to my grand
kids from time to time.
Thanks for listening. I trust your next days will be fruitful and
pleasant.
Blessings.