By TOM McLAUGHLIN Sr.
All five of her children and five of the seven grandkids arrived on Saturday and Sunday in early July, 2014, from Colorado, New York State, and Vermont. On Monday, the children, Tom Jr, Bill, Maureen, Colleen, Pegeen and myself went to the funeral home to make all the arrangements in advance. The ideas were beautiful: all music special to her was recorded and would be played at the wake. The remembrance card was her bucket list. Her passport would be placed in her folded hands. A large bowl of her marble collection would be set out for anyone to take in memory of her. A snack food layout was planned for the day of the wake. It was so well stocked that, and this is a little known fact, some of the younger grandkids had a contest to see who could stuff the most ripe olives into their mouth. Of course, the room would be decorated with so much of her life in pictures, words, and the two volume history and genealogy of the Nellis family. On Tuesday we saw the end wasn’t far off and on Wednesday we knew this was the time. Colleen and I continued her Morphine and she now seemed more peaceful than before.
It was Easter when Kathleen was discharged from a short stay in the hospital. On the hospital’s recommendation, I took her to a rehaband in three days brought her home as that wasn’t going to work. The doctor then ordered a hospice evaluation. They came on a Sunday afternoon. We sat on the patio and Kathleen sat there with us but didn’t say a word then. I thought hospice would be a hassle but after a half hour they said she is ready now and home hospice began a few days later and lasted for 38 days until she died. I had told them of the months preceding and how she had begun, almost always in early evening, to ask where were we, why were we here and to insist that I take her home. When I told her we were home she got upset and finally at one point shouted “you lie”. It was only later that I began to understand that what she wanted was to be released from this life that was nearing its end. I was advised not to worry over what she ate or drank but just to give her what she liked and that was ice cream. I continued with medication including insulin four times a day using a chart for dosages. Later though, it was only morphine mixed with another analgesic. She had become silent and would never speak again. But she did eat her ice cream as I fed it to her.
So now that all the family had arrived she was ready to depart; to make her own way home at last. On that warm July evening, that Wednesday, she began the final moments. She started topuff like a fish out of water; a sign that only a short time remained. I stayed very close and held on to her; the rest sat in the living room where we had set up her hospital bed a month before. It was at this point that I listened to hear what music was playing on the local PBS radio station.
We kept the radio on all day, every day, for as long as one could remember. All the music just flowed into our lives and we hardly ever made note of what was on. But I wanted to remember this moment. It was Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5. How appropriate and how wonderful. It begins soulful and foreboding. It continues with a sense of a journey, a calling and ends in a triumphant march; yes a rousing goodbye. What seems to start tragic is in the end not at all tragic but beautiful. A life to be proud of. A highly successful career in the health profession, a public servant, a wonderful mother and wife, a professional genealogist and author, and a person dedicated to honesty, integrity and true moral values. The symphony contains a beautiful waltz and I remembered two young kids in love waltzing whenever we had the opportunity.
Sadly, that never continued into our later lives as we settled into the more mundane. But that’s
life. Friday, the day of the wake, Kathleen’s younger brothers and sisters had arrived with their families from Michigan, Illinois, and Pennsylvania. We all sat down together for a late afternoon luncheon between the afternoon and evening visitations. The last time so many of us had gathered together was for our 50th wedding anniversary at the Toledo Zoo. The Zoo was our favorite place. After all, my dad worked in the museum office as part of the WPA in the late 1930’s. I have a photo of me taken about 1937 at the amphitheater. When our kids were growing up in New Jersey and we came home to visit, Nana and Papa would always plan the zoo trip first.
The burial on Saturday was just for the families. I am sure, that as I looked at her brothers Mike and Tim, and her sisters, Pat and Marge, (Marian had passed away some time ago) that they must be thinking back to the years when their mother had an illness and was placed in an institution for some time. Their father was working three jobs to keep things going. Kathleen, now in the fifth grade, became the primary caretaker and protector of her younger siblings. It was a thing she would do without a second thought. Responsibility was an important part of her life and she was proud of that. .There was no need to eulogize; Kathleen’s life spoke for itself. It came to a quiet end and her family began their journey home. Later when I laid out the inscriptions for the monument, I came upon the idea of an Irish saying “Slán Go Fóill” meaning “Bye For Now.” It was the day of the downtown auto show and I invited everyone to take a look.
Our family did go and spent the afternoon looking at the fine autos. On Sunday, everyone started back and for the first time in my life I was actually alone.
