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Sunday May 11,2008

Unexpected Death In A Family

by Linda J. Austin

This morning I sent a brief note about poetry to a friend. Her response read, "This too will be brief, as there has been an unexpected death in the family and I am not up to much chat."

There is something about the phrase "unexpected death in the family" that makes my hands cold. We are separated by hundreds of miles, there is nothing for me to do but send thoughts and prayers to my friend.

"An unexpected death in the family" takes me back to the past. I was probably eight years old when our neighbor brought home twin boys. The next morning one was dead. Someone said, "Crib death." I wondered. How does a crib kill a baby? Much the same way that I wondered years later how "friendly fire" could be termed a cause of death.

Grandad died in his sleep of a heart attack. Mom and dad went to Pennsylvania for the funeral. Since my brother and sister and I were in school, we stayed home in Georgia.

Aunt Audrey called one day to say that Uncle Bud had been admitted to the hospital for three days of tests. He was having chest pains. After two days he was released - all tests were negative. The next morning at breakfast with his wife and three small children, he died of a heart attack.

Aunt Carol called to say that grandma was in the hospital and if dad wanted to say goodbye he should come immediately. She died before dad got there.

A girl in my highschool died of pneumonia, another classmate died of stab wounds.

My best friend and her husband died in a suicide pact, although the police labeled it "murder-suicide." I had typed their wills, their last wishes. They wanted to be cremated. My ex-husband called me at work. "I didn't want you to hear this on the television." I was shocked to arrive and find two open caskets.

Dad went out to get the newspaper one evening. Mom was changing clothes. It was bowling night. Dad never came back. Mom found him slumped on the front lawn.

During my nursing assistant training, one of my residents died. "Who was taking care of Mr. Daniels? He died over the weekend." No one asked me how I felt. They just assigned me a new patient. Mr. Daniels had painted a wooden tulip on Friday and tried to give it to me. It was then I discovered he was feverish and I put him to bed. I wanted to stay with him but my shift was over and the supervising nurse was anxious to leave.

A car accident claimed three of my children's classmates. A few months later a murder-suicide claimed the mother and stepfather of my youngest son's girlfriend.

An unexpected death in the family, no time to say, "Goodbye." "I love you." "I'm sorry."

Linda J. Austin writes from experience as a nursing assistance and a family caregiver. "When I was assigned my first hospice case, I found my place in life." Retired from several careers, Linda is studying creative art therapy.