The morning after our return Home from the Speaking Tour in Canada the phone rang. We still weren’t quite sure where we were or what time it was. The shock of the phone ringing was nothing compared to the heart numbing news we were about to hear.
Shirley’s Brother, Bill, was calling. He had called his Mother earlier that morning as he usually did. This time she didn’t answer the phone. Uneasy, Bill drove the short distance from his house to her apartment. What he found has left an never-to-be-forgotten impression on his consciousness. His Mother had fallen as she stepped out of the tub after a shower. She was nearly delirious. He learned, later, that she’d been lying in that awkward state for over 2 hours.
Paramedics responded quickly and she was taken to the Hospital where it was determined that she had broken her shoulder in 4 different places and had also suffered fractures to her pelvis.
Shirley’s instinctive response was to fly back to Pittsburgh and nurse Mom through the trauma and care for her as she faced the ordeal of recovery. Her Brother urged her to wait until some kind of prognosis had been reached. After deliberating with Doctors Bill called again. The consensus was that Agnes was being well cared for in the Hospital. All of Bill’s Family and the people who call him Pastor were around her. Shirley would be needed more after Agnes was released from the Hospital. She was reluctant to make a decision without talking with her Mom. When that opportunity came she plead with her Mom to be honest with her. Agnes insisted that she was being well cared for and that she would need her Daughter much more when the work of rehabilitation was taken Home. And so the decision was made. Shirley would wait. When her Mom returned Home she would go back and stay with her as long as she needed her.
The days seemed to fly by. We talked with Agnes several times a day. She seemed to be showing remarkable progress. News that a bed was available in one of the better rehab units in her area seemed an answer to our prayer that she would get the best care at every stage of her recovery. She was moved without incident. Just short of two weeks after her fall Shirley talked with her. She’d had many conversations with Agnes since her move but that evening she was especially upbeat. Friends and Family were there. She even giggled as they talked. The physical therapy, she said, was painful. But she was hopeful. Shirley sensed that her Mom was enjoying her company and ended the call with a promise to phone later that evening. She did so several times that evening and her Mom didn’t answer. We assumed she had removed her hearing aids and didn’t hear the phone.
8:30 the next morning the “bell tolled.” Another phone call from Bill brought news the heart rending news that Agnes was in serious trouble. “It doesn’t look like she’s going to make it,” were his words. About an hour later he called again. His and Shirley’s Mother had died. Shirley’s world seemed, for a time, to have fallen in ruins around her. Every emotion; every “what if?” every decision revisited; every “How can I go on without her?” whirled around her. We’d have to go back now!
Within 12 hours, on September 12, we were on a red-eye through Minneapolis/St. Paul to Pittsburgh. The online fare we were able to arrange turned out to be less than the reduced rate set by the Airline as their “bereavement rate.” Though it seemed God had forgotten us and failed to hear our pleas for Agnes’ recovery this had a trace of the Divine about it.
Thinking back, now, more than two months later, it’s hard to imagine that we could do all that we did in the next seven days. My admiration for Shirley took an exponential leap that week. She was, unquestionably, heartbroken. She and her Mom had always been very close. Most recently they had become even closer. Shirley was, increasingly, despite the distance – though we did have her with us for Winters in recent years – her Mom’s principal caregiver. We’d tease her about her changing role from Daughter to Mother. She coached her about diet and proper use of her medication. She and I would make sure that Agnes got her daily walk in while she was with us. And she always went Home in the Spring in much better health than when she arrived. They talked several days a week by phone. Agnes was the one touchable, visible person Shirley knew loved her without strings. She was her unique confidant. She always had something to say that was encouraging. Shirley was sure, in the throes of the acute pain she was feeling, that there would never again be someone like “Mom,” in her life. Still she took the responsibility of going through her Mom’s apartment cleaning and deciding what should go where. Looking through myriad photos and other memorabilia was almost more than she could bear. But she did it. She and our nieces took some of those pictures and put together a standing collage for the Memorial Visitation at the Funeral Home and the Memorial Service. They also provided all of the pictures that were used for the Memorial DVD presentation viewed during the Service. She was transparently tearful and honest in her grief during the Visitation. Inside it seemed like she was going fall apart. Still she maintained that gracious poise which is so much a part of who she is no matter what the circumstances. She couldn’t speak during the Memorial Service. But she wrote this about her Mom.
“Words are inadequate to completely express my love for my Mother. I feel so privileged to have her for my Mom and best friend. She was a wonderful role model.
I have many treasured memories. Her thoughtfulness, happy times we have shared, the laughter and fun, (I loved hearing her giggle.) and the times of sorrow too. (And she had many of those.)
I can honestly say my Mother exemplified the fruit of the Spirit in her life that is written about in Galatians 5 – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I saw these lived out in her life since I was a small child.
The loss of her is more than I can bear. But with God’s strength I will. Again, something she role modeled for me. ‘Mom, you are a gift from God and Bill and I can honestly say, ‘Her children rise up and called her blessed.’ (Proverbs 31:28)”
Shirley and her Brother asked me to officiate for Mom’s Service and I was honored to do so. In that capacity I was the one privileged to read this simple yet profound expression of love and grief. Jason, our youngest Son wrote and recorded a song in honor of “Grandma.” You can hear that song, if you wish, by scrolling down the sidebar to the left of what you’re reading and clicking on the word “Podcast.” Jason’s Brothers wrote tributes to her. Jon wrote …
“Well Grandma it would be a HUGE understatement to say that when Dad called on Tuesday I was shocked. Some people just seem to be untouchable. And despite the bumps and bruises, aches and pains you have dealt with over the years Grandma, they have all seemed to just blow away like the leaves are starting to do on the trees in my front yard. But for some reason this time was different.
It seems like just yesterday that I was a little kid running around your front yard and I can still picture you going after those kids who threw rocks at me and made me crash on my bike in the alley. I can still picture that massive Christmas dinner you slaved over only to have our entire flu-stricken family sit at the table staring blankly at it. I can still picture you trying to color your hair on a trip out to Southern California and it turning hot pink. I can still picture that plate of roast beef, corn, and mash potatoes that was on the table waiting for me every single time I walked into your house no matter what time of day I showed up. I can still picture you on my wedding day and how proud of me you looked. I can still picture you holding your great-grandson, my son Jonah, for the first time.
What makes this the toughest Grandma is that I can still picture the last time I saw you and I can still recall the thought that was racing through my mind as I walked out of the house and headed to the airport, “That is the last time I am going to see my Grandma”. How quickly I dismissed it. “Not MY Grandma”, I thought. Who would have thought it possible…something getting the better of good old Red.
So now Uncle Bill and Mom don’t have their Mom, and we don’t have our Grandma. What now? Well for me the best thing to do is to sit back and think about how lucky I was to have you for my Grandma.
Mom was talking about how she always saw the fruit of the spirit lived out in your life and I couldn’t agree more. They’re listed as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control. I can think of about a million examples of each in your life. But since there is a schedule to keep today I’ll just talk about love…
Whether it was with words or with actions Grandma, you loved. The bible on your nightstand, the strong and crystal clear, “I love you Jon” you always made sure I heard, that embrace that just about took the wind right out of me, the way you loved your family, the way you worked tirelessly to give your family a comfortable life, the way you made sure everyone got a little something when birthday’s rolled around, and the way you still had time to smile and laugh after giving considerably more than I ever thought possible to those around you.
I think it would be a terrible tragedy to leave this world and not have people look back at your life and see in it qualities that held eternal significance. It’s important that your life speak to those around you because I think when it does then we know it’s not necessarily us doing anything special but God working in and through our lives just as he intended to do.
In your case Grandma, you have taught me immensely more than you could ever imagine. You showed me how to relentlessly love. That is about the best way to put it. To love relentlessly without promise of anything in return, without conditions or clauses, and without a moments hesitation. You did this every single day Grandma and for that you are my hero.
We sure are going to miss you Grandma. It’s only been a few days and we already miss you so much. I thank God in Heaven for you and for the life you lived. You lived a life that taught me how far I have to go in my own life and I am sure many other people can say the same. Take care of yourself Grandma, tell Grandpa I said hi, and if you don’t mind, please give me a nudge every now and then when I forget the lessons your life taught us all so clearly.
Enjoy the ride up there Grandma. I love you.”
Jim wrote …
“I really wish I could be there to pay tribute to a woman who exemplified unselfishness. Taking care of others: that is simply what she did. She built a life of faithfulness and care into all of us who knew her.
What has come to mind in the past few days are her special little quirks; her love of junk food when she knew it was bad for her; slowly pulling out a twenty dollar bill and telling me to go to ‘in ’n out burger’ and buy her a ‘double-double.’ ‘And get something for you too!’ ‘Don't tell your mother,’ she'd whisper, knowing Mom would be worried about her health; or stretching her walking distance to reach the Howie's Market – a neighborhood grocery store, about a mile from our Home, complete with old-fashioned bakery and butcher shop – so she could buy a lottery ticket and a chocolate chip cookie, diabetes or not! I mentioned to Dad when I got the news that she'd crossed over that she is having no trouble walking the whole way to Howie’s now. We always knew those cookies were heavenly.
For us who loved her and will miss her company it is tragic. But I can't but remember the words of Jesus that talked about, ‘unless you change and become like one of these little children you cannot come into The Kingdom of God.’ There was and is something so wonderfully childlike about Grandma. I know that blessed God's heart. An innocent West Virginia farm girl who is now blessing his heart up close and personal. I want to be more like her in that; childlike, unselfish, big hearted, constant. I am comforted by the hope that is her reality forever now. I am comforted that she is happier than she has ever been. She deserves it.
We'll miss you grandma. Save a cookie for me.”
On the Monday following the Memorial Service, September 18, Shirley and I, Bill, and his two daughters Nicole, and Kristen drove an hour and a half to East Liverpool, Ohio, Shirley’s Hometown for Agnes’ burial. We arrived ahead of the Coach carrying her body. The girls wanted to eat so we went to a place near the cemetery to eat and run a few errands. Neither Shirley, nor Bill, nor either of the girls wanted to witness the burial. While the others were in a shop nearby I stood in the parking lot and looked across the valley between where I was and the cemetery. The grave where Agnes was to be layed was on a hillside about a mile away. I could see it clearly. As I gazed across the valley I saw the Coach arrive. I watched as the casket was removed and carried to the grave. I could see the men lowering it into the grave. I observed them cover the grave, carefully mounding the earth, and placing the flowers that had graced her casket on top of the mound. It seemed almost surreal; like I was watching a movie of something outside of my experience. Yet I knew they were burying Agnes, “Mom,” as Shirley and Bill called her. In the solemnity of that moment of solitude I felt I had been given a moment alone with her. I knew what I felt for her was genuine respect; even reverence. And I knew I would always hold her in that high regard.
Over two months have passed now. Shirley is still crying, softly, some. She always will. I feel my eyes welling up a bit as I write now. I remember Agnes Bailey as Jim remembered her in his tribute. “A woman who exemplified unselfishness. Taking care of others: that is simply what she did.” I was there when she cleaned up after an incontinent Father-in-law three times in one day; something she did day-after-day for months until her Husband, and his Sisters agreed to put him into a Convalescent Home. I was there when she served her ailing Husband in much the same way. Before I knew her, when she was still living with her parents and siblings, she was her Mother’s “other hand” in the care of a Family of 10 children. I remember her as a fun loving soul who enjoyed watching television. She and I’d laugh uproariously at Jeff Foxworthy or take turns answering “Jeopardy” questions, or completing puzzles on “Wheel of Fortune.” I’d walk a ways with her to help get her “ole hips a movin’” at the beginning of one of her walks. We’d sneak behind Shirley’s back and buy a hot dog or, God forgive us, a plate of “Chili Fries.” She always wanted to “pay for it.” She was a quiet, courageous woman who earned the respect of hundreds of people from “every walk of life” over the 80 years that she lived.
In some ways, as I’ve experienced these last two months, I feel as if I’ve lived many of those 80 years with her and her Family. I am grateful to have taken that walk with her.
Thanks, Agnes, for sharing this remarkable life with us. We’re better for it!
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