Her whole face was beaming
and she smiled up at me with joy.
She had that look that you get
when you’re anticipating a party
with old friends.
Her last word to me was “Okay.”
Said without reservation or reluctance.
I didn’t understand at the time. Didn’t
know that would be her last word.
I’d just told her Scott would watch over her
for the next few hours, and then I’d be back
down to be with her through the night. I’d
just told her she wasn’t going to be alone –
that we’d take care of her. And her eyes
were filled with joy and love. “Okay,” she said,
with that smiling joy. And then I went to sleep
for a couple hours. When I came back down
she was sleeping on her hospital bed,
and I laid down on the couch next to her. I
got up at 12:48 to give her the medication.
Then again an hour later. (I wrote the times
on a napkin so I wouldn’t forget.) I woke up
again an hour later after a waking dream filled
with joy and peace and the brush of angel wings.
There was no struggling now. It took me a while
to realize she was gone.
But her last word to me was, “Okay.”
– Karen Molenaar Terrell