The Call

The call came yesterday, while I was having my blood pressure taken at the doctor's office.  I knew the call was coming; I didn't know when it would come.  My sister-in-law had passed.  I felt relief for her.  She had suffered greatly during this long goodbye.  Peace for her at last, I thought, and a joyous reunion with those dear to her who have passed before.  I felt concern for my brother who has shown such devotion, love, and tenderness for his wife, the mother of his children.  And thinking of the children and their families, saddened in saying goodbye but comforted, knowing that she is no longer suffering, I said a silent prayer for all of them.

The call came when my dad died, not by phone but in person when Melvin McKay, my father's dear friend and our dedicated home teacher, came through our front door, solemn-faced and sad himself but there to assist our family.  It was August, 1957, as I remember.  I would have my 13th birthday in November.  I was very much still a child and had curled up in the front bedroom to cry, my father dying in the adjoining back bedroom.  When he first arrived at the house, Brother McKay had walked directly to Dad's bedside with family members who were present.  A short time passed.  He stopped a moment at the spot I lay sobbing.  The call had come.  My diary entry for that day said simply, "My daddy died today."

My mother was not in good health throughout most of my growing up years.  I left home at 17 but the anticipation of getting the call was always in the back of my mind, particularly when my phone would ring at odd hours of the day or night.  Fortunately, the cell phone was not yet a reality in my world.  I may have driven myself mad had a phone been my almost constant companion then as it has become now.

The call I had anticipated for so many years did come as I began my 40's.  Mother had passed.  I had not seen her for some time.  It had been an even longer time since she had recognized me or knew who I was.  That was harder for me than her death.  Surely, a mother never forgets her child.  But my mother did.  Alzheimer was not yet a term used to describe a disease or health condition.  Mother lost her short-term memory first, then all memory or recognition of things familiar.

The call can be a difficult thing to receive.  It can be difficult to make.  It connects families and friends during the life and death times of our lives.