Less than a week ago, I wondered how long my mother-in-law would be here. And even though it was predicted and anticipated that her time would be short, it is still amazing how quickly she went. She left her affairs in order -- asking her bookkeeper and friend to come over to make sure her annual donations were sent. She sent notes to the various in-house entities that were expecting her to come and help with this or that: she told them not to expect her as she would not be around much longer. Direct and unsentimental and so reliable, as I said before. By Thursday it was clearly time for her to make her retreat downstairs to the nursing center, where Leon had lived for four years.
Lilah spent four days down there. When she arrived, she greeted everyone warmly and was received by nurses who remembered her from those long years. On Friday morning she had her last conversation, on the phone with Sarita in California, and then she dozed off and stayed asleep for the rest of her days. Family members stayed with her, talking, visiting with each other, sitting quietly. There was an empty bed in the room, and each night she had a new roommate: her daughter Dena, then her granddaughter Rebecca, and then her son Jon. She slept quietly, they slept less soundly, alert to their watchful role. I arrived late on Sunday night and went to see my sleeping mother-in-law. She was beautiful. I had not seen her so striking before, except in pictures. Somehow her face had melted into a youthful, smooth, bony version of Lilah. Utterly lovely. And so much like her daughters.
On Monday morning, today, her children felt that things had finally shifted. And, indeed, in the late morning Sue and Dena and Steve were with her and felt that it was time to gather the siblings. Within minutes all of her children were around her. And she was quiet, with no more breath. Sarita sang the Shema. And we were quiet as we waited to see if she would breathe again.
Today was not a demanding day but it seems incredible that this is the same day that Lilah died. It is the first day for as long as I can remember that I did not go out of doors until nighttime. Sue and Dena took care of decisions and details, creating a path forward for the next few days. They are following the same general path the Lilah chose when Leon died -- very private, immediate family only, with a shiva here at Brookhaven for anyone who would like to come.
It is too early for me to wrap this story up, but I want to remember the feeling of calm and peace and the lack of wrenching grief. There have been tears and there will be more. But she said it herself, she had a good life, she was lucky. And she lived in a place where people come to live until they die, so all the steps are handled with dignity and care. People say the right things, kindly. They treat all of this as a normal series of events. They don't rush. It is the most supportive environment ever for dying. The family is comforted, just being here. We are in a timeless bubble for a couple of days, and no one is pushing us anywhere.
When Sarita stepped out into the hallway to tell the cleaning ladies about her mom (it was her job partly because she is a Spanish speaker), they expressed such sorrow. They have known her for eight years and have appreciated her kindness and the notes she left for them, written in Spanish.
Tomorrow we will begin the process of making decisions about the physical stuff that is left behind, and we will meet with the rabbi and we will talk some more. All of this will help to make it more real. But Lilah set the tone, with grace and gratitude, and we will follow her lead.
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