Sunday, June 7, 2009

Betty May Died in June

That's just the kind of person my grandmother was. Go one better, one farther, don't quit until the job's done.

I talked to my mom who was at Mimi's bedside yesterday on the phone. She said, "They keep telling me she's not going to make it through the night. Every day they say, Only 24 more hours, max. They said she's completely unconscious and there's no brain activity, but when I said hello this morning and told her I was here, she lifted up her head and opened her eyes and looked right at me." Then mom said, "You know, I wonder if that's just how Mimi is. The woman has been a fighter all of her life. Having a good work ethic was her number one priority. Getting the job done, doing it right, and never giving up was one thing she prized more than anything. I think she's just trained her brain to not quit. Ever."

Then mom said, "It's just like this morning. I haven't slept a wink in two days in this place. But I went out and I ran five miles. And it hurt. And I didn't want to do it. But I did and I didn't stop until I was finished."

I said, "Mom, sometimes it's okay to just stop. Sometimes it's okay to rest."

"I know, Ashly. And I did stop. When I was finished."

Then we had a good chuckle. It's interesting the traits we pick up from our parents. Mom definitely got her perseverance and persistence from Mimi. But Mimi finally took a rest this morning at 7:50 a.m. Mom called and said, "She's gone." So after three years of constant pain, Mimi's not feeling it anymore. She's been released from that, and I'm thankful. It's very strange to think that I can't just pick up the phone on Sunday afternoon and call her and chat about politics and current affairs in the world and see how she's doing. We've done that most of my adult life. It's strange to think that my last trip to Rogers, AR, where I was born, where I have spent nearly every single Thanksgiving and Christmas for the last 29 years, may very well be in the next couple of days when I go to the funeral. My grandparents, our last remaining family members living there, are gone. There's nothing left for me there. That makes me a little sad.

I will miss Mimi. She was one of the most ambitious, determined, successful, thoughtful, and intelligent women I ever knew. I come from a long line of those kinds of women, apparently. I must not let them down!

So it's a beautiful summer day. And there couldn't have been a more perfect day for her to make her exit. She came into this world in the dead of a cold winter, and she went out on a warm, Arkansas summer day. Good choice, Mimi. Rest. And rest well.

2 comments:

Dani said...

I miss my mimi.

Ashly said...

I know. I do too. I think about her all the time. I know she'd be proud of us.