Mary Margaret Kilgust finished this stage of her life on Friday, February 12, 2010. I don't pretend to know what the next stage is, but I know that she has been released from the fear and pain she endured on this earth.
She died the way we hoped, at home, with Jeanne and I at her bedside.
She'd had a rough week, starting with diarrhea on Wednesday, which weakened her so that she could only manage to swallow 2 or 3 bites at each meal. By Friday, her breath was labored; we could hear how rigid her lungs were becoming. We went out that afternoon while an aide sat with her. We got home around 4:30. She woke up, and stayed awake. Her breathing was so labored, more so when awake than when sleeping, so after talking to the aide and the guy who split some wood for us, we fed the animals, and decided to put her right to bed. We changed her, got her into bed, and raised the head to try to help ease her breathing. She was so clearly struggling, we both stayed with her, talking to her, trying to help her relax. Then she took 3 or 4 agonal breaths, and she was gone. We'd been home less than an hour. We are grateful that she waited for us.
Mom's doctor, my college friend, had made it clear that if we wanted her there when Mom died, she would come, no matter when. So I called her, and she came right over, missing her son's school performance (she did get to go the next night and see him emcee the show). Dr. Barb declared the death, helped us put a nice dress on Mom, and waited for the funeral home so she could sign the death certificate. Her presence was a big help in keeping things calm.
Jerri and the girls were on their way over to spend the evening. Obviously, while we knew Mom was failing, we didn't anticipate she was going to die quite that soon. Jeanne called Jerri and told her not to come, and why. The girls were in the van, and Kiana listened carefully to her mom's side of the conversation, so that when Jerri hung up, Kiana said, "Who's dying?" Jerri said, "What?", and Kiana said, "You said, 'She's dying right now?' Who's dying?" Jerri told them, "Mary died." Kiana started crying, so Jerri pulled over to comfort her. "I'm so sad," Kiana said, and when Jerri asked her why, she said, "Because now Grambie doesn't have a mommy anymore." Then she proceeded to tell Jerri how grateful she was that she still had her mommy. She's a pretty amazing kid.
Avri, amazing in her own way, hadn't really been paying attention to all of this until the mommy thing came up. Then she announced that she was sad, too, and that she was glad she had her mommy.
The funeral home here in town was great. Here's a link to her obituary:
http://www.asimas.com/ASIMAS/randledable/obituaryDescription.jsp?domain_id=218&deceased_id=218644
Being present for Mom's actual death was what we wanted, but it was also the thing that scared me the most. The way it happened, though, left me feeling that being with her for that moment was a great honor and privilege. It made even these most difficult last few years worth it.
There is, as usual, much more to write, but for now, I send this notice out to the world. I love you, Mom, and I'll miss you always.
