I remember the first time I saw her. She was at the end of a hallway in the nursing home where my mom was a resident. She had this crown of neatly groomed white hair. She was pushing along a walker that seemed only a foot or two smaller than her. At best she was four foot six and weighed eighty five pounds. I thought, “How can anyone be that small and thin and still support their frame?”. From that point I would see her here and there, making her way through the hallways, and I would note that the basket on her walker was always adorned with a pretty flower, or a bird, or some seasonal decoration. Then a situation developed where my mother could no longer be in the same room with her current roommate. We discussed options with the nursing home and they brought up the prospect of my mom living with a quiet woman who had not had a roommate for a long time, and who liked things a certain away. We decided to try it out, and so my mom was moved into the room of the small, white-haired woman named Dottie, with the nicely decorated basket.
At first it was just small talk, but as we continued to visit with my mother, we started to form a relationship with Dottie. My mom was often not well, or not wanting to talk much, so to fill in the time we would talk with Dottie as well, and learn more about her life. She was about ninety three at the time, and she had only a few family members. As best as we could tell, she rarely got a visit. When the Lord took my mother to be with Him, we decided that we would continue to visit Dottie. We would see her once a month and would bring her decorations for her room, or home baked goods, and it was a joy to see her face light up when she would see us coming. In the beginning, she was always in pretty good spirits, but as the days passed and the infirmities came, she became more discouraged. Her speech became filled with melancholic phrases like “I wish I was back at my home, I have been here a long time” and “I wish the Lord would just take me home”. Still, through all of this, she would keep her room (with help) nicely decorated. She would say, “I always loved to decorate my house. It was my thing.” You could see a special little gleam in her eye when we would comment on how nice her room looked. It was a source of pride to her, and undoubtedly, a connection to her past that brought her comfort. As the months passed, when we would go see Dottie, she would always say the same thing, “I was just thinking about you and I thought you might be coming!” When we asked her how she was, she would routinely say, “I am doing the best that I can”, and she was. It was a joy for us to bring her a little ceramic Christmas tree, and a cross made out of palms. Timothy would occasionally hang his art work in her room and she would always reference how she loved it. We came to find out that Dottie loved patriotic decorations, so we gave her two pillows that looked like the American flag, and made sure not to miss celebrating the Fourth of July with her by bringing her a little red, white and blue Knick-knack. Dottie ended up calling us her family, and so we brought her a picture of us, and she proudly displayed it on the radiator near her bed. We wanted her to know that we were with her, even when we weren’t. She also so enjoyed talking with Lisa’s dad, as they had more in common because of their age.
The years passed and Dottie’s health deteriorated. Because of health concerns, she got moved to a room that allowed for a clear view into it. It was closer to the nurse’s station as well, to provide another level of observation and care. We started to notice that her room no longer looked as nice, and realized that whatever efforts were being made to decorate were no longer from her hand. A few months ago we went to see her, and she looked considerably worse. She had a distant gaze, and her speech was soft, and it seemed as if life was draining out of her. We considered that she did not have long to live, and indeed she didn’t. When we went to see her again, we found her room empty, and only the passing comment of an aide oriented us to what had occurred, as she said, “She died”. So ended Dottie’s life.
Who knows what our last years will look like. Will we be with family? Will we have our faculties, or will they have slipped away along with any memories of loved ones? Will we need a helping hand, or a listening ear, or a warm smile? I bet that we will. I must say that we were richly blessed by Dottie. She taught us many things about living (and dying) that we will keep with us, and yes, the Lord heard her prayer. He took her home.
Goodbye Dottie. Say hello to Jesus for us.
27 Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” – James 1:2
For Jesus,
Rob