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One of my cousins sat down with our grandmother some 40 years ago and “interviewed” her. Her comments were recorded, written and share with each cousin along with a few photographs. It’s a treasure!
Two comments stood out. The first was when she recalled meeting her husband, our grandfather in 1922, Deep South:
My mother stopped to visit the (Our last name) when I was 7 years old. I waited in the buggy and saw this tall, lanky 12-year-old boy come out of the house. He was freckled and red-headed and I thought he was the ugliest boy I’d ever seen. After that we just sort of grew up together over the next 10 years.
They were married when she was almost 17 and raised four kids together. Years later, our grandfather suffered a severe series of strokes and a brain bleed. I was away in the service and was told he was fairly confused towards the end. From the booklet:
I remember when we had to take him to the hospital with a stroke. He got confused him and kept asking, “Where’s my wife? Where’s my wife?” I held his hand and said, “Here I am. This is Dean, I’m your wife and I’m here.” He relaxed and said, “The best one anyone could have.” Those for the last word I ever heard him speak. Later that night, he suffered another stroke and although he lived, he never spoke again.
We know she was lucky. Lucky to marry him, worked hard at raising a family and there at his side when he needed her most.
If you were to be so fortunate, what will your last words be?
It wasn't her last words, but I remember with so much love the things my MIL told us as her dementia was increasing over time. She would hug us as we left after taking her out shopping or to a restaurant for lunch. She'd hug us and say, "I love you and I don't know what I'd do without you". I'm so thankful that she passed away from pneumonia before the dementia could take her so far down that road she wouldn't recognize us.
I hope that my last words are to tell my husband that I love him.
I used to hang out way too much in an Irish pub owned by my then-husband's best friend. Every time "My Way" came on the jukebox, the regulars would get up and sing with great gusto, as if they were men who lived interesting, unusual, and unique lives instead of a bunch of alcoholics sitting on the same stools day after day, indistinguishable from one another except for their names, faces, and other minor details. I guess they each had internal delusions of who they were.
It wasn't her last words, but I remember with so much love the things my MIL told us as her dementia was increasing over time. She would hug us as we left after taking her out shopping or to a restaurant for lunch. She'd hug us and say, "I love you and I don't know what I'd do without you". I'm so thankful that she passed away from pneumonia before the dementia could take her so far down that road she wouldn't recognize us.
I hope that my last words are to tell my husband that I love him.
My friend's mom had dementia and hadn't recognized her in a long time. She would visit on Sundays and sing her mother's old favorite hymns, which the mother seemed to recognize and enjoy.
The last time, when she had finished singing, her mother said, "I love you, Barbara". She was surprised and touched that for a moment, her mother knew who she was. She got the call later that night that her mom was gone.
What I want is my friend to take my cell phone and after the funeral text everyone. THANKS FOR COMING
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