My Lil' Gal from Tennessee.

(the pictures I looked at above her as I sang to her each week)

Edwina was my favorite patient.  Ever. And she deserves a little remembrance from me.

She has been on my hospice service for years - always declining just enough to meet hospice criteria, but never too much that she was anything but pleasant.  A tough little gal from Tennessee.

They married later in life, but in their ripe old age managed to put 54 years together under their belts.  She was 98, he is 87.  He took care of her.  Every Day.  Every Night.  He got her meals, helped her to the bathroom, hunted, fished, and gardened for their fresh local food.  I would spend half of my time singing to her, and half of my time shooting the shit with him on the back porch.  I would drag Joe and Coco along too, because they didn't have any family and it was the right thing to do.

He kept the house piping hot with the wood stove blaring...wood he chopped.  She was so tiny and always cold, so while I would be stripping down layers, and trying not to be lulled to sleep by the warmth, she would ask for her babushka and have me tie it tight to keep her head warm.

I never left empty handed.  Veggies, venison sausage, a bag of fresh fillets from that morning's catch - it's not customary to accept gifts from patients, but this was different.

He has nicknames for all of us.  I am "that gee-tar (guitar) lady," the chaplain is "that bald headed preacher man,"  and the social worker is "the one with the big boobs."

When he saw me walk into the funeral this morning, he yelled out "Where's Joe!?"  "He's right in the back" I said.  Joe made his way up and sat with him, holding his hand as they talked.  He said "My pot plant that the Mexican gave me is almost ready...you come over and we'll have us a party"...he said this loudly enough that everyone heard, and everyone was laughing (except maybe the funeral directors.)  But we all knew and loved these two people so well that this made everyone feel at ease somehow.

Edd cried when I sang "In the Sweet Bye and Bye."  That made Joe cry.  Joe is not comfortable at funerals, experiencing big loss early in life.  But I grew up Polish and Catholic - funerals are our thing.  I went to so many funerals growing up, I am comfortable here.  Death is that thing that I am good at, because somebody has to be - right?

She died in her chair, with her teeth in (her teeth that she lost every day).  He was feeding her pumpkin pie as she passed.  We should all be so lucky and so blessed to exit this world in such a way.  Loved.  Cared for.  And Fondly, sweetly remembered always.

xoxo...love love love.