She Lay There Dying... Victoria

Thursday, September 26, 2024

She just lay there dying. 

My little British friend, Victoria. She was very vital a couple of years ago. 

Now she can barely breathe, cannot sit up, and has fallen so many times that her thin crepey skin has gashes, cuts, and bruises everywhere. I love her spunk because her fingernails are a beautiful pink and manicured, even though the rest of her body is ravaged by her falls and illness. 

But she’s just lying there barely breathing …and dying. I fed her water bit by bit through a little straw because she couldn’t even sit up to drink. She was grateful. 

Classical music is playing in the background while she lies on her back barely breathing closer to death. Somehow the music is fitting.

I’m hunting through her papers to find what I can for her relative who lives far away in England. They realize she is close to death. I don’t think they understand how close she really is. 

I heroically find a lot of important papers for them so they can have enough to pay for her hospice and burial expenses when that happens. I run across two little cards with her shot records in the papers I am respectfully rifling through. 

Six shots… Six death jabs. I do not respect those. They have brought her to this place.

When I first met her, she had just had her first shot and was fairly energetic… Now all these poison darts later she lay there dying. 

I’ve watched her slowly lose her well-traveled, and well-read life over the last three years. She has no one but me nearby to watch over her and now the caregivers who are assigned to her. 

But she is all alone and she lay there dying, I touch her face. I feed her water. I take a picture of her hand. I’m fascinated by her hand with a 3-inch gash and bruises but beautiful pink fingernails. Such a dichotomy. 

Two dead husbands, a dead dog, and no children. Lots of books she loves books and she loves to read. 

Everyone thought she stopped smoking but she reserved and savored her two secret pleasures of cigarettes and Chardonnay. I would never tattle on such a secret!

All I ask her to leave me is her lovely British accent. I’m not sure how that can transfer… But I dream I will wake up someday with a lovely British accent. She certainly has one. Although right now, she doesn’t talk. It won’t be long now. Hospice is giving her comfort medication. 

Once she passes, I will go over to clean out her stuff, there will be very little because everything was left behind when she moved out of her long-time home that was full of the life that she lived. The only thing of value is that little tiny lady with a big spirit who lay there dying. 

I had to leave and go about my business today, so I left her in the care of a caregiver, but not before I prayed for her, brushed her face with my hand, kissed her on the forehead, and told her I loved her and I would see her soon. 

Sunday, September 28, 2024: 

My sweet and sassy little British friend left this world today. I only wish I had known her longer. 

I’m still hoping for the British accent.