Was I being intuitively guided when I purchased a
ten-pound-spiral-cut ham on Saturday afternoon? All I knew in consciousness was
that she said she was hungry for my ham and broccoli quiche. Little did I know
that ham (and the quiche) would be used to provide nourishment for my brothers-
and sisters-in-law over the next few days as we said our final goodbye to the
woman who has been my mother-in-law for almost fifty years.
Fried potatoes, beans and ham, southern cornbread... We have joked about my channeling my “Inner Martha” as I
cooked and served and cleaned up the kitchen. (See Luke 10{38-42) Of course, I
recognize how each of us offers nourishment to one another in our own unique
way, and I know this was Seva Practice for me.
When she was discharged from the hospital in May of this
year, her goal was to get better and ”graduate” off hospice care. If sheer will
could have brought that forth, she would have succeeded. Although that was not
to be, she certainly squeezed every succulent moment out of her last months of
life.
While she did not dance, she was able to attend the
wedding of her great grandson in May. A few weeks later, her church celebrated
her 92nd birthday, and she went to lunch with four of her five sons
and wives. An afternoon visit with her 96 year-old sister-in-law who lives out
of state delighted them both as they put aside their walkers to stroll down
memory lane.
When her first cousin and his wife celebrated their 60th
wedding anniversary, she was there to enjoy the worship service and the delicious
brunch.
One week later, she is free from the body that could no
longer sustain life.
We had several nights of little-to-no sleep, and I went
to bed exhausted last night after a long day of meeting with the pastor, having
visitation at the funeral home, going out to dinner with the brothers and
families, and then hungry for connections, sharing with my own beloved daughter
and my three grands who came for the funeral.
Finding myself wide awake, it is now 4:00 am and I am tucked in my bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat,
with my hungry fingers being satiated in their familiar home on the keyboard.
This column cannot contain the depth of our family’s
gratitude for our local Hospice at Home, and I am sure there will be more
writing about that. For now, I will close with the words of the late (great) Wayne Dyer:" Follow your excitement. For me it’s writing. I know that I’m fulfilling a
dharma."
RIP Eleanor Basham. Your legacy lives on….
