the long goodbye

They walked into our support group 10 years ago and I knew right away they were going to become an important part of my life. Ann was a red head with a wonderful laugh. Her mother, Beulah, was tiny… she came just past my waist; her eyes sparkled with life and her laugh was soft and chiming. Beulah was 80 years old and her husband, Ted was demented.

Ann was Beulah's only child and she and her husband, Bill, helped care for Ted. Still, Beulah spent the majority of her time alone with him.

Over the years Beulah and Ann shared stories of Ted and his confusion. We laughed when he removed antennas from cars parked in front of his house and when he decided everything in the yard next door belonged to him and he needed it back! We talked about the best way to help him and what meds he should or should not be taking and what "stage" he was in…. impossible to say really. Beulah took the reins and made decisions she never thought she would have to make in her life… Ted had always been the "head of the household" and I watched as this tiny woman came into her own. She was awesome!

I grew to love Beulah and her indomitable spirit and Ann became one of my dearest YaYas. Beulah referred to our visits as her "Kate fix" and I loved hugging my tiny friend and kissing her soft cheek. I admired the mother-daughter relationship she and Ann shared. They were clearly best friends.

Inevitably we talked about hospice care for Ted.

Ted died in 1997 and we all grieved for Beulah but she seemed to do well with the loss of her love.

It was not long before all of us began to notice, Beulah was growing a little vague. It caught us by surprise. In retrospect we could see that perhaps she had held herself together until Ted died, then she relaxed and we could see…she too was demented.

Ann was devastated! Daily, she was losing her best friend to a vicious disease. Before long Beulah could no longer live alone. She did not remember to eat or take her medication and she allowed people she did not know into her home. Bill and Ann made room for her in their home and cared for her there. We began our long goodbye to my sweet little friend.

The support group surrounded Ann with love and she, Rhonda (my other YaYa) and I met frequently for lunch and other outings. Beulah became more demented. When I saw her she remembered she loved me yet could not remember exactly who I was. No matter. I loved her all the more and delighted in kissing her, holding her tiny hands and talking to her.

About a year ago Bill and Ann moved to Alabama and of course, Beulah went with them. I saw Beulah just before they left. I dropped in for a quick visit amidst packed boxes and bags. She was getting a manicure and I think the fact that she did not know who I was upset more than pleased her. Still I needed to kiss her one more time.

After the move, Ann and I spoke by phone and she kept me current on Beulah's condition. Always I could hear the heartbreak in her voice. "Mom loves it here. She sits on the porch and talks about how beautiful it is but she has no idea where she is. She asks for me and Bill when we are right here and when family comes to call she does not know them."

Last week Ann and Bill came to town and I had dinner with them. It was good to see Ann, but I was surprised at how small and tired she seemed. Bill was his usual jovial self, teasing me and the waitresses… making us all laugh, yet you could tell there was sadness under his good spirits. We ate, we talked and laughed and they told me all about Beulah. After the strawberry shortcake we hugged, spoke of our love for each other and said goodbye. I did not let them see me cry as I left for my car.

Ann and Bill had come to town to bring Beulah back to the side of her husband Ted. She was 90 years old. On my desk there is a picture Ann gave me a years ago of her and Beulah and it reads, "A friend is the hope of the heart."

Rest well my sweet friend.

The long goodbye is over…