Ashley Mashley

It was unbearable to see Nanny in pain. She had blisters from being in bed, not able to move. Hospice care provided morphine so she would be more comfortable. Although she felt better, it made her very tired. Her organs were starting to fail–she had absolutely no appetite. Her breathing would slow but would become a short, raspy noise. The booklet from hospice said this was normal yet it was still startling.

One morning I was talking to my mom; she told me she heard Nanny shouting, “Mom… Mom!” during the night. She thought Nanny had gotten clever about getting help. So she would shout “Mom” because she knew my mom’s motherly instinct would kick in. Of course it did. She got up and checked on her, but she was fine. It wasn’t until later that she realized that Nanny wasn’t calling for her, she was calling for her own mother. I wondered if her mother was talking to her.

We were aware that there would be one last burst of energy a few days before her death. Almost every weekend I was staying at my fiance’s house since people were in town to visit. I rarely went over to my mom’s to see how Nanny was doing–terrible, I know. I guess I didn’t want to face the reality of it all. It was on one of these weekends that she had her burst of energy. She was sitting in the wheelchair and chatting in the living room with family. The one regret I have is missing this time. I wish I could have been there.

Wednesday morning at 5 or 6 in the morning, my fiance woke me. It was the day before Thanksgiving and exactly a week after her 73rd birthday. My phone was ringing. I already knew what it meant, no words had to be spoken. My mom was crying. Automatically, I started crying too. Nanny was gone. There was no way I could drive home with tears in my eyes. My fiance dropped me off at my mom’s house where family was already starting to gather. Nanny had passed peacefully in her sleep.

Memory keeps loved ones ever near us. Sunshine fades & shadows fall – but sweet remembrance outlasts all.

We said our good-byes before the funeral home came to pick her up. While they were taking her out, we walked outside so we didn’t have to watch. It was one of the worst times in my life–but I have never seen my family come together in such a loving way. We were all there for each other. Everyone shared stories of Nanny and we recalled happier times. We smiled through our tears and she brought us together for one last time.

The next day was Thanksgiving and it was planned to be at mom’s since Nanny was there, but now she was gone. That day most of us were just going through the motions. I have no memories of that day and neither does my family; it’s as if we were just running on zombie mode.

Friday, I had to buy clothes for the wake and funeral. I was getting ready to go shopping and it began to snow. SNOW! Remember, I live in Houston, Texas. It only lightly snows here about every 10 years. I felt it was a gift from Nanny. She had lived in Ohio for part of her life and loved the snow there. She was telling us, “Everything is going to be alright.” I enjoyed seeing the snow; it was the only time in my life that snow actually stayed on the ground for a bit.

At the wake, there were family and friends, some of which I had never met. Nanny’s siblings, her co-workers, the room was filled and poured over to the outside. Even her past boyfriend was there, I remembered him from my childhood. The funeral was the next day and was a celebration of her life. Extended family came together to reminisce and we made a slide show of Nanny’s pictures throughout her life. To make it feel more like a commemoration, rather than a funeral, we wore our bright colors like Nanny always did. I tribute my colorful wardrobe to her.

Almost a couple of years later, the family is still dealing with her loss. Grief is an unusual creature; it affects everyone differently. One of my uncles that was distant, became close to us again. Another is still angry about the whole situation and blames anything or everything for the cancer. While I’m sure the rest of us think about her everyday but it’s just a silent thought in our day. Even though the glue that held us together is gone, we still make an effort to see each other.

Spring of the next year, we gathered at her old house. In the backyard, my uncle had planted colored roses along the fence line. They were not in bloom yet, but he decided it would be the perfect place to spread Nanny’s ashes. We all agreed. Each one of us took a turn spreading her ashes and saying a few words or a prayer if we liked. I know it wasn’t the same for everyone, but it was a spiritual experience for me.

One of her wishes was for her ashes to be spread in San Francisco, a city she loved dearly. So when mom and I took a trip to California, we made a stop in San Fran–a city we all once visited together. At pier 39, we scattered her ashes in the water just as she would have wanted. She left her heart in San Francisco…

The holidays, Christmas in particular, was a difficult time for us. It was Nanny’s favorite holiday. She loved buying everyone presents to see the excitement on their face. We went on with the festivities all the same. I was “Santa” passing out presents and everyone unwrapped them. After everything was opened, mom walked in with a huge bag. Inside were slippers and Swiss Army knife keychains for all of her brothers. She also carried envelopes for every family member. This action had deep sentimental value because every Christmas, Nanny would buy a necessity for her all boys and give everyone $50. I know she was watching over us that day.

My posts won’t always be this serious. But this event was a turning point in my life and I felt like I could see my life more clearly. My path changed from things happening to me, to me changing my life.