Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Hearts and Humor – A Michael Smith Column

November 20, 2006

Michael is presenting a mini series here about the death of his first wife.  Please be sure to email him with your comments and support.

The Beginning of The End - The End

Michael Smith
 
Vanessa and I watched the heart monitor. The line went flat and suddenly started up again. Her pulse went from zero to sixty, faltered and went flat again. The nurse entered the room.

"She's gone. I saw her heart rate spike near the end. I think she heard you talking to her
and wanted to say goodbye."

We left the room. I was in shock, as I walked ahead of Vanessa. The machines, the nurses, and the doctors were fuzzy images floating around me. I reached the nurses station and realized Vanessa wasn't beside me. In a haze, I'd left her alone. Behind me, I saw Vanessa being held by one of the nurses, who taken care of Georgia until the end.

The Nurse stroked her back. "Vanessa, it's OK. Here's your dad."

She handed Vanessa to me. We held each other and cried. Vanessa and I sat on the sofa. We were stunned.

"Now what, Dad?" she asked.

I had no answer.

Memories surrounded us. The sofa where Georgia spent her remaining days still had the extra cushions I'd used to make it higher, so I could get her to her feet. A shelf on the TV
stand held our wedding picture and a snow globe with all the major buildings in New York City. I'd given it to her the Christmas before. If you wound it up, it played the classic "NewYork, New York."

Justin came home from school. He'd refused to join us at Georgia's side. He wanted to go to school. He didn't want to be there.

"Well? he asked?

I looked at him. My red eyes were his answer. "Mom's gone."

He went to his room without a word.

Vanessa found comfort with her computer. I left her alone and went to our bedroom - my bedroom now. I opened the closet. Georgia's clothes hung in a long row. She never had the chance to use them since moving to New Jersey. She spent her last month in hospital or night gowns. "What am I going to do with these?" I asked myself.

In the afternoon, I called Frank Patti. "Frank, this is Mike Smith. I spoke to you last week about my wife. Frank, I need to talk to you. Georgia passed away this morning. I need your help. When can I see you."

"Mike, I remember our talk. I didn't know it was going to be so soon. I give you my condolences. You can come now if you like."

An hour later, I sat in Frank's office. "Mike, I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you. We have many options. Do you need a lot?"

"No, she wanted to be cremated."

"We'll take care of that for you. What about a service?"

"Frank, neither of us have family here. My family is back in Nova Scotia - that's in Canada."

He nodded.

"Frank, I don't know. I want her to have a service, but she didn't now anyone here. The only people I know here are my work friends. I guess a few will come."

"We have a small chapel here unless you want to use a church."

"We don't have a church here yet. I think your chapel will be fine. I figure twenty to thirty people will show up."

"You'll need an urn," he said. He helped me pick one.

"Mike, when do you want to hold the service?"

"I don't know." I was still in shock.

"She'll be cremated." he said. "There's no rush. You can hold it whenever you feel comfortable."

"I think it needs to be on the weekend. The only people I know are work friends. How about next weekend? That way, they can be here. I don't expect many, but it's the best time for them to come. Otherwise, no one will be there."

"I understand," he said. "Let's make it 2 PM on Saturday."

"Sounds good. Frank, I am so alone here in New Jersey. Thank you for your understanding."

"Mike, what about music?" Frank asked me.

"Frank, there's a song I always wanted it be played at my own funeral. Georgia never expressed what she wanted. I think this may fit. It's called, 'I Walk With God' sung by
Mario Lanza. The song always touches my heart. Mario sings it with such passion. I have the CD. Would that be OK?"

"What ever you want, Mr. Smith."

A week later, I walked in to the funeral home with Vanessa and Justin. The chapel was full of flowers. They came from various groups in my company and even from my
last company back in Ohio. I stood in shock. How could so many care about someone they didn't know.

"Mike?" Frank touched my shoulder. "You need to talk to the Chaplain. He wants to ask you a few things."

In a daze, I allowed Frank to lead me away. I sat in a small office with the Chaplain. "Mr. Smith,

I'm sorry for your loss." He said it with compassion, unlike so many others, who had had no idea how strong the pain is. "Tell me about Georgia."

I told him about Georgia immigrating to Canada from Hungary during the Hungarian revolution. We spoke about our many moves, her parents passing on, her sister's murder and Georgia being alone.

"Mike, do you want to speak? You don't have to."

"I need to." I said. "No one here has met her. She came here a month ago. She was very sick. I need to tell our story."

The room filled with my work friends. The Chaplain spoke. I heard little through my tears and the constant ringing in my ears. He called me up. I stood in front of Georgia's wedding picture and looked out on those who came. "None of you knew

Georgia." I began. "She came from a distant country and eventually we met."
I talked for a long time.

"And now, it is time for me to say goodbye." At that point I lost my composure. "I'm sorry, I can't go on."

I walked to my front seat, tears streaming down my cheeks. I saw my son. He was crying for the first time I sat between him and Vanessa and held them close - the last hymn played.

My co-workers filed by. One-by-one they shook my hand or hugged me. Tears flowed freely. My good friend Bob came by. He took my hand and then put his arms around me.

"Mike, I'm so sorry."

My tears flowed.

Bob's daughter, Abby, was next. She was four-years-old. She reached her little arms around my neck. Her soft lips touched my cheek. She started to walk away but turned back. Her arms wrapped around my neck once more. Her pink lips pressed to my cheek again. This time she blew, making the loudest noise possible. Everyone began to laugh - including me. She knew everyone was sad. She made it right.

Many of us returned to my house. My workmates brought food and drink. We sat, talked, and did our best to make the best of the day. One-by-one, they drifted away, leaving Vanessa, Justin and I on our own.

I thought back to the day I said to Frank, "I think it needs to be on the weekend. The only people I know are work friends. How about next weekend? That way, they can be here.
I don't expect many, but it is the best time for them to come. Otherwise, no one will be there."
 

The date I picked was October 18th - my birthday. I didn't look at the calendar when I picked the day. I was thinking only of a day when people could attend.

Thank you for reading this series. It has been healing to write. I wanted to post this today, because of the date.

Ginny, the wonderful woman she is always tries to make this date special for me. We were busy on the weekend. I wanted to write this story then but didn't have the time. We planned for me to come home tonight, write and post this story, but because of traffic, it took me more than two hours to get home.

Thankfully, Ginny knew I had to get this out, and gave me the last few hours to write it to you. She too knows the pain of loss.

PS I mentioned I had a song played for Georgia's service. You can listen
to it here:
http://hometown.aol.com/jesusandsue2/WalkWithGod.html
This song always makes me cry
 

I love your comments. Mail your comments to mtsmith@qwestonline.com
 Love you and value you
Mike
 
Michael T. Smith
To read my stories or to sign up to receive my weekly story, go to:
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