Mature Life Features

Cecil Scaglione, Editor

It Was Three Years Ago —

with one comment

— 7:14 a.m., Monday, Sept. 10, 2018 — that Bev died.

I was holding her hand and preparing to administer another eye-dropper dose of morphine on her tongue. You know when you’re feeding your spouse morphine that you’re killing her. Suddenly, her breathing became extraordinarily deep and slow … and then she left.

It ended some nine months of a losing battle against the debilitation of ALS and cancer in her spine. The final blow was the insertion of a catheter (because she no longer could get to the bathroom) that she swore she would never allow herself. She left quickly, quietly and on her own terms.

Among the memories of that excruciating period were some exceedingly warm and bright spots:

We talked about many things, including where and how we we were going to be buried. We agreed on a niche at Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside, California, just up the road from San Diego, for our ashes.

We went on a final shopping run to Walmart in her pajamas to feed her shopping habit. I pushed her around the store in her walker with wheels and she picked out things she thought I would like because she no longer was able to swallow solid food. But we had fun.

We’d hold hands and watch ball games at night as she would nod off after the hospice worker arrived to watch over her so I could get some sleep.

Residents and staffers here at Sunrise of Gilbert would drop by to visit and brighten up her day as they talked about sports, shopping,, grandkids and everything else that overlooked the fact that she was dying.

A final memory-mark occurred after her ashes were parked in the mission niche when the Franciscan friar urged those assembled to pray for her soul.

And to pray to her. That’s something I do every day, several times a day. And you know what? It works.

Written by Cecil Scaglione

September 10, 2021 at 6:00 am

Posted in Memories & Milestones

Tagged with , ,

One Response

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. In my brief time knowing you, Cecil, I only wish I could’ve known her too.

    Steven Gubka

    September 10, 2021 at 3:12 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: