Holly's mother died last Sunday. But she died well. My only regret is that, after having heard some admirable things about her, I didn't meet her before she was gone.
About a month ago, mom was admitted to the hospital after suffering a seizure. After fending off the the medical community (after WAY too much sedation, they wanted to implant a pacemaker based on a pressured consent from family, not informed consent by mom), she went home to recover. Instead of just laying back and expecting to get better, mom took responsibility for her recovery. She set goals for time out of bed, for mild exercise, and for slowly resuming housework. She didn't over-stretch - family was there to help, and mom only took on a little of the work as she was able. But she did, thank goodness, take on what she could.
But there was some question of her heart, and if a pacemaker really was needed. The compromise was to get a monitor and see what the record recommended.
On Sunday evening, mom was up and about. She was on her feet. She helped with the cooking and dishes. She was talking and coherent. She felt valued and useful. She was happy. Early in the evening, she lay down for a nap. A short time later when family checked in on her, she was gone.
"Term of all that liveth, whose name is inscrutable. Be favorable unto us in thine hour." I hope, in my time, to find as much favor.