Marilyn
December 15, 2020
Ken Honderich
My sister. Marilyn is gone. Gone at a time when our world’s health separates us, at a time when our nation and our family is so divided that we cannot come together to mourn or to celebrate her wonderful 90 years of life.
Halloween morning I was looking forward to our block party, planned for the neighborhood children. My phone rang and Marilyn cried into my ear, “Ken, I fell. I’m on the kitchen floor and can’t get up.”
I called her staff. They found her. An ambulance took her to the Franciscan Hospital in Dyer, IN. I was unable to enter the crowded hospital, and, in fact, I never saw Marilyn conscious again. After Marilyn suffered two painful days, her surgeons took her off her Coumadin and performed necessary surgery on her broken hip. She suffered two more painful days alone, when a blood clot caused a massive stroke. She never responded to any stimulus again. My sister, Eloise (age 92) and I accepted the recommendation that she should go into a residential hospice, without a feeding tube.
Marilyn liked words. She loved the Psalms, and she enjoyed word puzzle books. She was an excellent stenographer who could easily copy one’s rapid dictation using Pitman shorthand (now a dead art). After she retired, for eight years, and well into her 80’s, she became a crossing guard, watching children safely cross the street and go into school. While spending time on the corner, she began to spell words backwards for fun. Before long, she could spell entire sentences backwards without stopping or misspelling a word. Ehs dluoc lleps sdrawkcab. Try it, it’s fun! In her papers I found the following poem she wrote about her personal faith.
MINE, ALWAYS
My heart was once so heavy
with burdens and distress
That I was almost certain
that there could be no rest.
And life just seemed so pressing
that I would not heed his voice.
Till, finally in despair one day
I made the Lord my choice.
No my sings are all forgiven
and I have live anew
Through Jesus Christ our Savior
whose life is ever true.
Such blissful peace, with joy so divine,
now floods my soul each day.
For I have that blessed assurance
that he is mine, always.
The 139th Psalm was her favorite. In her last moments I read it to her. I don’t know if she heard it. She was still not conscious. The hospice people told me that hearing is the last sense lost in the death experience. If she did hear, the last words she heard were verses 23 and 24. “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
I find peace in knowing her faith was so real to her. My prayer is that my story about Marilyn may help you to know joy, hope, happiness and peace this Christmas season.
