Then She Was Gone

It’s a purple door. A glossed and vibrant purple door with silver detailing around the windows and frame. I’ve never knocked on a purple door before. The wind blew gently through some chimes tied up to my left. They looked to be sea shells stringed together with fishing wire and hot glue. Still, their homemade music clicked wildly in the air. For a moment I closed my eyes and tried creating rhythm to their beat, strange. I’ve never done that either.

“Hello?”      

Or show up to a new client’s home with my eyes shut.

“Oh! I’m sorry… Hello, I’m looking for a Stella Myers”     

A woman with long black hair which thinned into white strands at its roots came in behind the younger woman who answered it. She had large brown eyes which made any other feature on her face small in comparison. They had a dazed sheen over them. Past her small frame I could see her pat the back of the younger woman in a way that signaled “it’s ok”. I know that pat, just like I know the looks, stares, glances, nods and smiles spread wearily across tired faces. The younger woman, who wore blue scrubs and the look of a long night on her face stared long at me and sighed. She stepped back, allowing the full view of the woman and her eyes to come forward. Her arm extended to me, I extended both of mine and cupped her hand in them. People like it when you do that, I know its just a hand shake but people like that extra hand overlaying their own. The warmth; another secret way of saying “it’s ok”. You see, we have our ways too.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you… what was it-Janett, Jenny… no, no- no I know it I do-“  She spoke through thinly parted lips.  

“no worries Mrs. Myers”  

“oh just-just come in, I’ve kept you here long enough” she shook her head and ran a shaking hand through that black hair, fraying it.

I nodded, entered through those silver archways and said my goodbyes to the sea shells song knowing inside would lay my reason for being here. Its always the same, family gathered together in small patches around the home, their faces drooped with anticipation and unrealized anxieties. You know I can imagine it by now? The years have only added to the details, and the motions. I can almost give a play by play of how it will all work out, down to the goodbyes. However, this one had me surprised. She turned the corners of her home with quickened steps and an urgency found like those who’ve forgotten they have an appointment at the doctor’s office, something they can’t reschedule. She looked down and hugged herself close. In her home was seen bright shades of blue, yellows and greens. Orange accents were found displayed in hidden corners and cushioned surfaces. Her garden seemed to be lush with flowers of every kind.Roses bursting with red, tulips, lilys I could go on and on and still not name them all. So much so that even from where I stood; past her porch doors, their brightness came through. I gave a small smile to them, acknowledging their beauty.

“please, come sit” she spoke so quietly – I almost missed the words.

I took my seat, which was the only source of noise in this colorful but empty house. I looked to try and find any source of community- of family. If not for the young woman who was mixing some hot tea behind me, it would be empty. Now, I’ve come to homes like this before, when my clients have worn life well and with many good memories -these home’s they take shelter in are just a place of history. Of where a cousin or an uncle made a joke, where a beloved friend made you feel special and wanted. Many don’t know how lucky they are to find themselves surrounded by those they love, many don’t take the time to count. However, it’s my job to count and for someone relatively young its hard to imagine how- well… that part isn’t my job.

“ Mrs. Myers” I plucked open my files and begun laying out each page according to their importance. Their feel and color I have committed to memory by now. Their grain is something I have felt pass through my finger tips for a while.

“first, I would like to thank you for having me in your home, it’s beautiful and those flowers” I found myself looking back out at that garden again and thinking that it’s the perfect view any time of day.

That’s when the air turned cool, and the stirring in the kitchen stopped for a moment. My client didn’t turn her head or acknowledge the comment. She only watched as my hand moved from paper to paper.

Anxieties, we all have them. It can be enough sometimes to just say the wrong thing or look the wrong way to set someone off. As we get older, I tend to find that those anxieties shape themselves after us- after our lives. What once was the worry of stage fright at your first school play evolves itself into the worry of your mortgage- unpaid bills. If we’re not careful, those anxieties can even follow us to the grave and that’s where many of us least expect it.

I set my hand on the table in front of my arrangement, she looked up with swelling eyes and a quivering lip. The women in blue set down two cups and rested a calm hand on Mrs.Myers shoulder- which she didn’t respond to.  

“Here are all of the necessary forms needed to plan everything down to the T. What we do now is just fill them in, and should you need any help or recommendations please feel free to ask me”

Sometimes its better to just move through the emotions at first, get things down with clear diction.

“oh-oh yes, w-which ones first” She picked up the pen and gestured to the sheets.

I turned them over and begun listing formalities. We worked through each set with surprising speed. Each answer was short and concise. Most times my clients and I spend time talking through each question. More often than not we shared moments of clarity and stories of the past.

…

“There-it’s done” She all but threw the pen down. Rubbing her temples, she leaned back in her chair and clocked her head up towards the ceiling.

 Throughout every page we hardly spoke a word and it doesn’t take much for me to see when someone’s in pain, well- when you’re in my field all you know is pain so its not hard to find. I knew what she was doing, or rather what she was avoiding to do. So, I poked;

I don’t usually poke- but I did.

“Well, we’re all set here in the paper work area. Your forms are complete and I will work towards having each request met, however” leafing through two pages I pulled out one that was passed along the quickest. Oldy enough it’s the one paper that I usually spend the most time on.

“Here I see you’ve put down that there are no family members or friends you want present? Before and after?” Pointing down to the painfully bolded words of ‘no one’ I tried to understand. I’ve never seen ‘no one’ before.   

She moved, uncomfortably and shot a quick glance to blue scrubs. There stares met for a moment before Blue scrubs spoke. “you see Mrs. Myers would like to be left alone when-when such and such happens. We spoke about it and I will be here to announce the time. After which I will go back to the hospital. I believe she wrote all that down correct?”

I furrowed my eye brows for a moment and then nodded my head, but there was something pressing me to ask more.

“I would just like to make sure that this is what you want Mrs. Myers. To not have anyone you know that may give some comfort, it’s something I see often and though ill be right here for you it’s-“

“how long have you been in this field?”

“pardon?”

“How long have you been doing this whole—” She shook her hands in the air as if to shoo away a fly and leaning into the table finished off her thoughts.

“Death thing?”

“oh” It’s a question I get asked often. I find it endearing… almost.What I do is fairley new, when I say it out loud I find myself wondering soemtimes.

“about 3 years now, but beforehand I worked in a hospice for 9 years” the answer came out like an automated play button.

“ah, so surely you must have had experience with all types of requests? I mean I did hire you based on your experience”

Blue scrubs side eyed me before she turned around and took up the cups. I breathed in and watched Myers’s frantic eyes search for something I didn’t have. The answer to a long-standing question which always has a nasty way of coming back.

“yes, yes you did- I’m only trying to make sure that you feel as comfortable and at peace as you need. It’s true, many people need many different things but one remains constant” I pointed back down to that glaring ‘no one’ and ran my finger tip across the line before turning the page back around into my pile.   

We sat with that silence for a moment.

“You said you like my garden” again the small words came out with hushed wanting.

‘Yes, it’s beautiful and I see you have all sorts of wonderful colors”

She gave a small smile then.  “I never liked gardens that lacked color.”

Slowly but surely.

“Maybe one of these days we can take a closer look at it” I smiled back at her and placed everything neatly into my bag.

“Maybe”.

“You know Mrs. Myers I’ve done this many times, and other than sorting paper work my main job is to be here for you. Through it all and then finally, after.”

“after I die” her voice broke then and all to familiar tears fell down her cheeks.

Through the years I’ve learned to separate myself emotionally form my work. Not totally but enough so that I’m able to do my job.

“I understand that this is difficult, but please don’t feel like you can’t talk to me about it,”

“Stop- just stop right there.”  She stood up from the chair and ran through her porch doors, swinging them wide.

I stood as well and turned to blue scrubs, who only shook her head. “she doesn’t like talking about it-  give her some time” .

So I waited. Samantha- the woman in the blue scrubs who's name I later found out- arranged some clothes and moved around medication. I asked if I could help and she gave a curt but polite no. So I sat and let my eyes wonder around the room. Occasionally looking out to the garden, Samantha reassured me that Myers was fine. I believed her but the worrying thoughts still came, you know I’ve never had a client run out on me either. I spent those moments thinking up ways to help her grieve, or help her move forward or just help in general. Samantha must have seen this and called me over to where the main lounge area was. After fluffing some pillows, she turned her attention to me, her face had changed though- looking anxious.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything” I gestured over to the couch and we sat there together. Samantha checked her watch and proceeded to sit on the edge. Leaning over my shoulder enough to keep an eye on the garden.

“I understand it’s part of your work to provide guidance to those who are in the same situation as Mr. Myers, so then can I ask a favor of you?”

I nodded and she turned to her left, there a small side table stood with a blue lamp atop it. Pulling at the draw handle she placed a careful hand inside. Cradling what looking to be a small frame in her hand as she quietly chut back up the drawer.

“Forgive me, I'm a little unfamiliar with all that an End of Life doula? does. You see a few weeks ago Stella asked me to give this to her moments before she takes her last breath. She wanted to hold it you see. And I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s all she’s got left.”

Samantha handed me the frame. It was no bigger than my palm.

“I don’t now if I should be-“

“please. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be here for her through it all, I mean I’ve already stayed long enough”

I swallowed hard and turned the frame over. On the other side was a picture of a man with blonde hair and blue eyes holding a pair of small socks. The image alone was enough to bring up all sorts of questions. That’s not my job though. I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. Whoever this was, may have meant a lot. Scanning the room, I quickly noticed no other frames up on the wall or as decoration anywhere else. Whoever it was, must have been very special.

“I understand, thank you for showing me”

Samantha nodded and took the frame back from me, slipping it back into its hiding place. She stood up from the couch and made her way outside to the garden. Moments later she returned with Myers. The woman seemed different though. She was calm and any sign of sadness seemed to have evaporated off her face.

But the weariness was there, hidden behind. She came over to the couch and sat down across from me. In her hand she held a yellow tulip with reddening tips.

“I’m sorry, I just needed some time. Here you are”

“oh” she placed the flower next to me and smiled at it. Rolling it around my fingertips I brought it up to my nose and smelled its natural fragrance.

“You didn’t have to pluck this pretty little thing out the garden for me” it truly was beautiful.

“oh, please. It’s the least I could do-“ she trailed off again. I put the flower down and cupped both of her hands in mine. “It’s ok” Speaking those words is different than insinuating them. It’s the most forward and clear way you can get that feeling across. Just saying the words. No tricks, no signs.

“It’s all going to be ok. I’m here, I’m not going”.

We sat in this silence to.

…

Two weeks passed by, we didn’t talk much even then but I knew, I think she knew as well. Sometimes words aren’t needed.

Mrs.Myers did ask for that frame, she clutched onto it for a brief moment, then she was gone.