I have not seen her beautiful face so peaceful in a long time. Devoid of makeup, hair pulled up on top of her head, the latte of her skin against the white pillow – I am reminded of an ancient Egyptian queen.
A heavy, gold cross is suspended on a heavy gold chain around her neck. No earrings, no other adornments - she is regal in simplicity.
An Unseen Peace fills the room.
They tell me that Carolyn is actively dying. Indeed, the presence of family and friends filling the room attest to that; but I know her strength. I know the “fight” within her spirit.
“Carolyn,” Roslyn says. “Mary’s here.” Roslyn was the receptionist at our Angel Team office. Now, since Saturday, she is Carolyn’s caregiver. “Carolyn!” Ros is a little louder now, and in Carolyn’s ear. “It’s Mary!” How many times had I heard, “Carolyn, Mary’s on the phone for you, line two.”
Carolyn’s eyes flutter open for the briefest of moments, and a half-smile catches the corner of her mouth.
“Hi Sweetie,” I get very close to her. “I love you so much,” I whisper into her ear. “You know that, right?”
Ros gives her liquid Jell-O, and Carolyn does swallow.
Lamar is frantic, moving pillows, shuffling papers. He loves her – really loves her – with all his heart! He is the good man that Carolyn waited for; the good man who stood proudly stood beside her in Church last year and promised to love and honor until death they do part.
Lamar has refused Hospice care; he is convinced that Carolyn will live.
I look at her meds, and tell Lamar, “Milk thistle. She needs milk thistle. They sell it at GNC.”
Too soon it appears that the polite thing to do would be to leave. I hold her pretty hand with the pretty pink nails and tell her again how important she is to all of us. I sit for a while and stare straight into her closed eyes. Live, Carolyn, live!
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