Guest commentary by Jennie Langham
The knock at the door, the knock one never expects, the knock that only comes to other people came to me. It was early in the morning. At least it was early in the morning for me. I was still in my pajamas. A dear friend was standing at the door. She had been asked to be the bearer of “not good” news. She came to tell me that my daughter, my friend, my darling had been taken to the hospital emergency center. She was the victim of an aneurism. Randomly I grabbed clothes from a closet, rushed to the waiting car and was driven to the hospital.
Her husband was there and her daughter arrived soon after. After examinations, the emergency room staff felt she should be taken to a hospital 50 miles away. Someone could accompany her on the helicopter ride to the Pensacola. I was chosen because of my lower weight.
Although she was of retirement age and a grandmother herself, she was still my daughter, the light of my life. All my life I had felt I could endure anything except the loss of a child. She was my child.
The professionals at the hospital in Pensacola did so compassionately all they could do. The recommended that she be sent to Shands Teaching Hospital in Gainesville, Florida. For 13 days we were at Shands. She did not recover. Life supports were removed the day after Christmas. The end came. The week after, New Year services were held in her current hometown and two days later in her beloved city, New Orleans. She rests now with other family members and the light of her life, her father.
My daughter had a full life. She was a great daughter, a devoted wife, a loving mother and grandmother. She adored her brother. She was deep into family. She was more. She was deep into her church, her community, her country and territories beyond her country. She was one of those who worked to assure that the new elections being held in certain countries went off smoothly and in order. She spoke often of Bosnia in particular. In her life, she blazed a good trail.
Of course, I have been in despair. I admit it. I have been devastated. I have read many books on death and dying. I have lost parents, brothers and sisters. The pain was great, but not such as this. I am getting better. I am getting better spiritually and physically. The toll was on both. I realize that I must remember that the pain is not mine alone. Her husband, her daughter, her brother, her grandchild, her stepchildren, her nieces and her nephew all grieve. I must remember that not I alone am hurting.
We have always been a close family, even with the extended family of cousins, in-laws and others. We talk often on the telephone. We send many greetings. My daughter called me every day. She checked on me, she shared her thoughts with me. We knew we were there for each other.
This, I want to share with you. On one occasion during the week before she became ill, we were having a telephone conversation and for some unknown reason I felt the urge to tell her how much I appreciated her, how great she had been as a daughter and how so much I loved her. Her answer was, “Oh, Mother,” as if I were doing a grand job of exaggeration. But I told her and I am so glad. I have that memory. I said, “I love you,” and hung up.
I say to you: Please don’t hang up before you say, “I love you.”
Jennie Langham is an elder and a retired Christian educator, now 93 years young. She is a member of the Lakeview Presbyterian Church in New Orleans.
