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 60thwedding 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….
