My mother-in-law died recently. Just a couple of weeks ago in fact. 06 March at 17:32. Why I noticed the time I have no idea. I just did. She did not have covid19. She died of the complications of having cancer for a long time. She lived with cancer – pancreatic. Her operation to remove the cancer was in 2016. She beat the odds for a long while. The percentage of people with this cancer who live past the first year is only 5%.
My mother-in-law, Mette – a tough lady with humour was how a close friend described her. She loved family gatherings and having people drop by for coffee. She thought about others, concerned with their well-being. I have only known her with cancer and with the thoughts and worry that cancer brings with it. I would have liked to have met her before the worries overwhelmed her. She did not accept that she wouldn´t live for another 10 years. She went for walks in the neighbourhood where she and her husband Benny, had settled 50 years earlier. Building their own house alongside the neighbours who also had chosen the same little town away from the city bustle. The neighbourhood grew. The house was built not far from Roskilde fjord. Water. A magnet for Mette – walking distance from water was best. She and Benny walked to the water many, many times even when things got tough for both of them. Benny has Parkinsons. A robber. A thief. Stealing abilities taken for granted through life. Stealthily taking over areas of the mind, areas of cognitive function in the brain, prompting fantasies to become reality, making time stand still. So while Mette fought her demons, both the dark thoughts and the limitations enforced by a body fighting a foreign invader 24/7, and Benny battled on through the debilitating effects of his illness, they walked the neighbourhood. Down to the fjord. Down to the next street and over and back. Down to the end of their street and back. Down to the neighbour three doors down and back. Until Benny couldn´t anymore without being wobbly and Mette worried he would fall. Mette was OK. She could manage. She walked. As long as she kept up with the kemo, every other week with a break once in awhile, she could manage. She wasn´t ill. Admirable. She didn´t want her illness to overshadow her life and she didn´t want anyone to worry.
We brought Benny to visit Mette the Wednesday before she passed away. He said goodbye. Gave Mette a kiss.
Thursday I could still talk to Mette. Her responses were simple – her requests basic – water, sit up, wet her lips. I sat by her side. Held her hand. Crocheted a little hand towel.
The sun streamed in the big window where her bed had been placed so she could look out. Feel the light. She loved light, loved the sun and the warmth it gave.
Friday I remembered music. Last Night of the Proms which she liked. A little candle – LED but still it flickered like a candle. We were there. Let her know we were there. Held her hand. Let her know that when she was ready it was ok for her to go. To start the next journey – a journey we couldn´t be a part of. There were flowers. As the light began to fade she seemed to make up her mind. She opened her eyes oh so briefly. We were with her. We held her hands. She took a few short breaths. Then no more.
There was no drama. There was simply no more. I opened the window a while after. Her soul, her spirit could fly when ready. Safe journey Mette. We tidied up the room. Gathered up her belongings. Spoke with the nurses. Took our leave. There was no more.