Ms. Nellie

Ms. Nellie died last week. She was 86 years old and my sweet friend. The last year and a half she has lived in a nursing home. A nice nursing home as far as that situation goes. Her daughters would only have what was best for their momma. A private room with her chair, a microwave (so she could have hot meals), a small refrigerator, a television for Oprah... And her door was always decorated, pictures up of her two grandchildren, cards from friends arranged in a basket. Her favorite candies readily available, fresh flowers on occasion, clean and cozy socks, warm coverlets that Cathy made. As well as clean and neat clothes hanging in the closet with her hamper ready to catch anything dirty. All the comforts of home, right? Yes, but only if it was home and of course, it wasn't. She never really complained or begged to leave. I think she knew that was no longer an option. Also, I don't believe she wanted her girls to carry the burden of thinking she was miserable. Getting older, really older has got to suck. Your mind or body fails you. In the case of Ms. Nellie it was her body. She was so t-tiny and became very frail. She fell once and then again. Walking was a real effort and she would stumble. Before all that, before she got bad, she would make me coffee. It was the best coffee. She peculated it on the stove. "When the water starts to boil, let it brew for 5 minutes" I remember her saying. She would set the timer, ever so meticulous in her kitchen tasks. She gave me her perculator, insisting I take it. I thanked her immensely, then promptly called Cathy knowing I could never keep it from her daughters. They too insisted I have it. I cherish that old pot along with her tea recipe in her own handwriting. Death always brings regrets and so did hers. I wish I had visited her more, I wish I had given more of myself and I wish I had one more coffee break with my friend Ms. Nellie.