Three Score and Ten, What Then?

by Peggy Mary E. Smith

  Rose wasn’t real happy there. The hospital people had painted a rosy picture about how wonderful it would be, but it sure wasn’t like they had described. She was quite disappointed. It wasn’t at all what she had hoped for. The room she shared was crowded. She had no place to bring any of her own furniture. A few pictures and clothing was all that she was able to fit into the small area that was considered her space.

  Rose said it was very noisy there. All the constant commotion really bothered her. She said that it was even noisy at night. Some of the residents didn’t sleep well and were up and about during the wee hours. The nurses did rounds during the night and came into her room to check on two of the other women that had to be changed and turned. It always woke her from her sleep.

  Rose had been living at home all those years on her own, so it had been very quiet. Even though she missed her husband terribly, she had learned to enjoy her solitude. She came and went as she had pleased, slept and ate when she had wanted, and made all her own decisions. Now she was in a place where everything was on a strict schedule. She was told when she had to go to bed, when she had to get up, and when and what she had to eat. They even made her have a bath on a certain day at a certain time. She said it was like a dictatorship, and privacy was pretty much nonexistent.

  It really bothered Rose to see so many elderly people in such a frail and invalid state. It made her sad to be exposed to so much chronic illness. The ones with dementia upset her the most. Our generation was never exposed to the mentally retarded. They were hidden or locked up. Rose didn’t know how to react to them. They frightened her.

  On one of those first visits, I recall Rose saying that one of the other residents had referred to the nursing home as a house of death. That was disturbing to her. I remember thinking to myself at the time that it was the truth. Everyone who moved there was there to die. It was a sad thought, but the truth all the same.

  Poor Rose! I know that she was depressed. What a terrible place for her to spend her last days. I think she should have gone to her daughter’s home. Perhaps she had even thought that herself, but she never mentioned it. She was a very proud woman and didn’t want to be a burden.

  I tried to visit every chance I had. I know that Colt and Jane stopped in quite often, too, as did Eva and Dawn, and her daughter came out once a month for a good visit. Her boys made the trip when they could. We all tried to get her outside or take her for a short car ride when the weather permitted. She loved to drive out to the old homestead.

  Rose did say that the food was good. They had a good cook there, and everything was homemade. It was good to know that she was eating well. I don’t think that she had been eating so good when she was at home. It’s kind of discouraging to cook for one. I know that from experience.

  The nursing home also had a good activity schedule. There were some real nice gals that ran that department. They did all sorts of crafts, played cards, and had different groups come in to provide entertainment. Rose enjoyed all of that.

  There were a few other people who had come from our neck of the woods that also lived there. Rose knew them well and liked to visit with them. It comforted her somewhat, and as time passed, she got to know a couple of the other ladies, and they became friends.

  After a time, Rose succumbed to the fact that this would be the place where she would end her days. She never really adjusted to the strict scheduling of everything, but she got used to it. It was never home to her, but she accepted the fact that she could not go home. Rose eventually got to know most of the staff. She became quite close to some of the nurses. She obviously had her favourites and talked about them fondly. I know it made her day when the ones she loved were working. You could see it on her face when they came into her room to help one of the other ladies.

  I know Rose looked forward to our visits. We often reminisced about our childhood days. She was the oldest girl in our family and was twelve when I was born. She was a wonderful big sister and had lots of patience with us younger ones. Rose often had the responsibility of watching us youngsters. I know she had had her hands full with me and the twins. We had been quite the little characters. Life had been somewhat different for her growing up being that she had been that much my senior. She was off and married by the time I started school. She was starting her own family by then. They didn’t live that far away though, and visited on a regular basis.

  Rose remembered things and knew about stuff that I had been too young to recall. It was interesting to listen to her talk about those subjects. It seemed to lift her spirits as well. It’s funny how old people just love to talk about old times. Seems like it’s what we know best. Anyway, Rose didn’t have to endure life at that place very long. A flu bug did its rounds in the nursing home the first winter she was there. There were quite a few of the residents who couldn’t rid themselves of its illness. It had a tight hold on them, and they eventually perished. Rose was one of them.

  It brought me deep sadness to see her go. We had been a tight family, and all us children had remained close as the years had passed. It had been hard to see Ma and Pa go, but it was even harder to say that last good-bye to my siblings as they each passed.

  Virginia Rose McCherny (Hayes) was born in 1885. She died in 1972 at the age of eighty-seven. She was the second child and eldest daughter born to Chase and Beth Hayes. She was a child of one of the original pioneer families. She was part of a generation that endured great hardships, and paved the way in order to create the lifestyle that we enjoy today. Rose was part of an era that has long since passed, but should never be forgotten!”

  losing logan

  “Logan and I celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary in February, 1979, and what a celebration it was. We had shared fifty years of wedded bliss together. It was a milestone that we both wanted to celebrate not because we’d ever had doubts that we could make it that far together, but because we had been afraid that fate would intervene and not allow it.

  We both had our share of tragedy and grief before we met. Our spouses had died much too young and left us alone to rear our little ones. Our hearts had been truly broken. We had silently worried that fate would once again prey on our happiness and take that what we held so dear. Somehow we cheated fate and had been able to grow old together.

  We managed to rear those seven children plus the two we had together. They all got a good education and grew up to be law-abiding, hard-working, taxpaying citizens. We had lost Chase in WWII, but the rest of our family made good lives for themselves, and seemed very happy. What more could parents ask for.

  Logan and I had had a good life together. It had proved to be a good union. We endured our times of trials and tribulations, but we held tight, and the good times outweighed the bad. We had it better than some folks hereabouts, so we sure couldn’t complain. We were in our eighties by this time. I had just turned eighty-two, and Logan was eighty-five. We were still in good health for our ages and getting on just fine, even though old age had set in. We were just enjoying each day as it came.

  Anyway, our family helped us throw a humdinger of a party to celebrate our Golden Wedding Anniversary. We rented the Legion hall in town and hired the Legion Ladies to put on a beautiful roast beef supper. We hired a disc jockey to play at the dance and a photographer to come and take pictures. The entire family had managed to make it home for our grand occasion. We got a beautiful group picture with the whole gang in it, except Chase, of course. That was special. I’m so glad we did that because some of those faces in that family frame are gone now. I only have pictures and memories of them left.

  It was sure a whirlwind of a celebration. Logan and I even enjoyed our time on the dance floor kicking up our heels. Land sakes alive, it was a night to remember for sure. I’ve always been so grateful that we had that moment in time to share. It was special, that’s for sure. Just too darn bad it didn’t last, though.”

  With those words I feel my chest tighten a little. I stop for a moment and hesitate
. I feel my eyes fill up with tears. I look over at Beth and see tears running down her cheeks. “Gosh, Beth, I sure miss that man. I really loved him.”

  “I know, Gran. We all did. He was special. He always seemed to be happy. I don’t ever remember seeing him in a bad mood. It was always fun to spend time with him.”

  “Well, Beth, he had his moments, too, just like everyone else. But generally speaking, he was very easy-going.

  I guess all good things must come to an end, and to an end it did come. A sudden and unsuspected one. Logan was gone before our next anniversary rolled around. As summer approached that year, I started to notice Logan having peculiarities. He seemed to struggle with being able to match his ties to his shirts when we were getting ready to go to church. He would take the wrong turns when we were out driving on very familiar roads. He would pick up his fork at meal time and look at it as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. These were peculiarities for sure. It was things like that, that got me to worrying.

  I had him go to the doctor for a checkup, but the doctor thought it was just old age settling in. The doctor said it was just forgetfulness, that’s all, just a normal part of getting older, but as the months passed, it got worse. Logan started to get real bad headaches. He had never been bothered very much with headaches before. That is when I got really concerned. Something other than old age was going on for sure!

  I took him to see the doctor again. This time the doctor seemed to put more thought into my concerns. He sent Logan for a series of tests. Within a month, we had a diagnosis. Logan had a brain tumour. The doctor said it was inoperable. He gave Logan about six months.

  My Lord, that took the wind out of our sails. We weren’t expecting that sort of news. That was tough to deal with. I didn’t know how to wrap my head around the situation at first. I just felt stunned!

  The headaches got real bad for Logan. He was given high doses of pain medication. They left him pretty much incapacitated. It did dampen the pain, but most of the time he slept. He wasn’t eating much, and in no time he went from a healthy robust man to a frail skeletal being. He was disappearing before my eyes, one day at a time. Oh, how it broke my heart to see it happen. Some days I just couldn’t contain the pain of my sadness and the tears came uncontrollably. I was watching the man I loved leave me, and there wasn’t anything I could do to change it. I felt so helpless.

  I nursed him at home and did everything I could to keep him comfortable. When Logan was awake, he wanted me to be with him. We looked through the picture albums and reminisced about all our adventures. We no longer talked about the future, but savoured our past. If there was anything good about the whole situation, I must say that it gave us time to say a proper good-bye. We did have that chance at least.

  When Logan became too weak to walk, I had to give in and take him to the hospital. I never left his side. He went into a coma within a few days. The doctors said that the tumour had gotten much bigger. I hoped he’d open his eyes and smile at me one more time like he always had, but he never did. Logan died a week later. I found myself alone once again.

  Logan’s arrangements were taken care of by the funeral home in town. We no longer waked people in their homes as we had when Royce died. It was a relief to have them look after all the details, for a fee, of course, but at least the children and I didn’t have to deal with all of that.

  It was the end of September, so we had an autumn theme. Logan had always loved the fall with all of Mother Nature’s vibrant colours on display. We had the service at our little church in the countryside where we were married and had attended service for all our years. There was a huge turnout as I knew there would be. Logan had been a well-respected man in our community.

  Logan was buried in the church yard beside Martha. Royce and his family are buried there, too, as is all my kin, and someday when my time comes, it will be my last resting place, as well. I guess I take comfort in knowing that. I’ll surely be in good company.

  Sad thinking back on it all. Losing Logan was a difficult time for me. I was eighty-two years old, and for the first time in my life, I found myself totally alone. I had never lived in a house on my own before. I had never had to eat all my meals alone before. It took a long time to get used to, if a person ever does? I’m not so sure that it was the being alone that bothered me as much as being so terribly lonesome.

  Logan wasn’t just my husband; he had been my buddy and companion. We were best friends and had done just about everything together. I just felt lost without being able to have him to share life with. It had made me feel good to know that he was always there to look out for me, too. Suddenly I just felt lost. I didn’t have a purpose. I had spent my whole life looking after others, and then there I was. I had only myself to be concerned about. I didn’t like it one bit. Things had been different for me when Jed and Royce had died. I had small children to take care of. They were my responsibility, and I had to be concerned about their welfare. This time, I had no one.

  It just about tore me apart emotionally when I got the news that Jed had died. Jed had been my first love, and I his. We were so young and full of passion and lust for each other. We couldn’t stand to be apart. My very existence seemed to depend upon his. We had grown up together and were soul mates. Our whole life was reaching out before us, filled with hopes and dreams. We had been meant for one another, and he was the love of my life. I had spent the whole time of his absence preparing for his return. My heart said he would. He had promised! I had never allowed myself to think for one minute that he wouldn’t.

  I was wrong! That was hard to take. I was angry at him for breaking his promise. I was angry he had died. Not that I felt like he had got himself killed on purpose, but I was angry just the same. I felt like he had deserted me and our children. I not only had to accept Jed’s death, I had to accept the fact that our future plans, with all our hopes and dreams, had died, too. There was no funeral, no good-byes, and no closure.

  But, I had the twin’s welfare to be concerned with. I had lived alone with them in our home for eighteen months. It had been two and a half years since Jed had gone off to war. It had been two and a half years since we had made love for the last time, had kissed for the last time, and said good-bye to each other for the last time. I had had time to learn to carry on without his daily presence intertwined with mine, carrying on the hope that he would return. It just about killed me when I got the news of his death, but my daily life carried on like it had been. It had to. I had the twins to take care of, and they had no idea who their father was, that he had died, and that he’d never be coming home. That was my burden, not theirs.

  When Royce died it was different. It was a shock to my system that morning when John brought his lifeless body home. He had just left the house a few hours earlier, and had been so happy and full of life. To see him lying on the couch dead was unbearable, and I didn’t allow myself to believe it at first. It left me traumatized.

  I remember feeling so betrayed by fate. I had allowed my heart to love again. I had started a new life for myself and the children. We had needed to move forward and have a fresh start. Royce had come into our life and offered us happiness and security. He had brought joy and passion back into my world. He had loved us all so much and been so good to us. He was just a young man. We had our whole life still ahead of us to look forward to. To lose him like that was horrific.

  At least we had the chance to give Royce a proper burial and say our good-byes. That gave me some closure. I didn’t want to accept it all, at first. I thought it was a bad dream that I would wake up from. I hoped and prayed that it wasn’t true, but eventually I knew it was. I had to come to terms with it all. It took a couple of weeks before I could get a grip on my senses, but ever so slowly I did. I had four children to be concerned about, as well as the farm to help out with. There was so much to do on a daily basis that it kept me busy, and it kept my mind occupied most of the time. Oh, I had my moments, but in time things seemed to work their w
ay through.

  For Logan and me it was different. We had time to adjust to the fact. His death was not a shock or unexpected. We all knew his days were numbered after he was diagnosed with the tumour. We had a chance to say good-bye. I don’t feel we left anything unsaid. That gives me a lot of comfort, and it helped to ease the pain after he died. Near the end, when he was real sick, I prayed for him to go. It was just so hard to see him suffer. I so desperately wanted him to stay, but I knew I had to let him go. Logan had had the chance to live a full and long life. He was eighty-five when he died. He got to raise his children and see his grandchildren. We enjoyed a wonderful life together. It wasn’t always easy, but it was a good life, just the same. After Logan died, my only regret was not being able to have more time with him. I’ve missed him every single day since. A big part of me is gone. Life as I knew it is gone, and I know that I buried a part of me when we buried him. I’m just so lonesome. It’s not nice being old and alone. Sometimes I feel like I got left behind.

  active living

  “Well, Logan’s death took the stuffing out of me. I felt numb and disconnected. I just seemed to want to hibernate, so to speak. I wasn’t even real interested in the family and their goings on. That was unusual for me. I know I just wasn’t myself at all. I was so lost without Logan’s presence in my life. I didn’t want to talk about it and I didn’t want anybody’s sympathy.

  I felt more at peace just hanging out at home by myself. I found comfort in that. I hadn’t been able to part with any of Logan’s things. I needed to keep them close by. They needed to remain as he had left them, and nothing was out of place. It’s like I almost convinced myself that he might be back to use them. He had always taken such good care of his things, and I felt that I had to carry that on. It took months before I was able to think about getting on with living.