Aunt Millie Retires
Millie loved going to mass in the morning. She loved the quiet of prayer and long, slow hymns. It was necessary for her piece of mind before a hard shift. It was necessary for her piece of mind after a hard shift as well, when some of her decisions left her exhausted. She would sink into a pew and sit with her feet eased out of her nurse's shoes, toes still inside the leather tongue so as not to offend God.
The walk from mass to the retirement center didn't bother her as she took very good care of herself. Millie believed that her body was a temple to her Lord and took vitamins regularly. She gave vitamins to the residents that could tolerate swallowing them as well, always with the doctor's permission, of course. Sometimes she ran into some of the more mobile residents who woke up early. Millie liked to see the residents in church. It gave her courage to see her nightly prayers answered in the morning of mass.
The retirement center was set back from the street. It was trimmed in neat lawns and vibrant annuals. There were park benches and lots of regular activities to keep the residents busy. Millie had received permission to introduce new activities over the years as she believed idle hands were the devils and she didn't want to lose any souls to purgatory so close to their time.
Mist hung on the air in sheer curtains as she neared the church. Few cars were out this early on a Sunday and Millie felt as though she had the whole street to herself. She didn't see any of the residents out this morning but she didn't expect to, either. There had been another death last night and some had stayed up late talking about it. Millie didn't understand why they didn't come to mass anyway. It was so important to light a candle for the decedent's soul. She would have to make sure she lit a candle for Delores.
Delores Satterlee had been her name. She had liked to play cribbage and Millie had spent many a spare moment during a shift playing the game with her. Delores had been very good at cribbage. A fine addition to heaven, thought Millie as she crossed herself at the sanctuary entrance.
Millie was sixty-five years old, or she would be in about four months. She had been at the center since she was twenty-three and fresh out of nurse's school. She would retire soon and was not looking forward to it. She was short and strong, her arms built up from repositioning residents for forty-two years. Millie had let her hair go yellow gray and refused to color it. "If God had meant for me to have any other color hair I'd have it." She often told her niece during their monthly calls. Her niece lived in California and didn't know what color Millie's hair was anyway. Millie called her the third Saturday of every month, religiously.
Millie loved her niece and was sad that she lived so far away. Christmases were lonely and she usually volunteered overtime at the center in order to keep herself busy. She had never married, believing that if God had wanted her to marry he would've seen fit to send a man by now.
He had apparently seen fit to send her several stray cats over the years, however, and her apartment smelled faintly of cat piss, bleach and lemon furniture polish. This didn't bother her as she had very few visitors.
Millie came home to her cats after evening mass. She fed and watered and played with them all before kneeling beside her bed to pray. She prayed feverently tonight. God had been telling her how to prepare a place for herself in heaven and seemed to speak to her all the time now. It seemed as though the closer she got to her retirement, the louder God spoke. As she set her alarm clock she couldn't help thinking that soon she wouldn't need it anymore. Even though she knew that someday she would be with her Lord, the prospect of having only her cats for the last years of her life frightened her. She slept restlessly and left for work extra early the next morning.
Mrs. Ketchem in 203 was getting worse. A good catholic like herself, Millie tried to spend as much time with her as possible. She just knew this gentle soul would meet her on the other side.
"How are you doing today, Sarah?' asked Millie as she came into the room with a lunch tray. The woman in the bed smiled weakly and motioned her over.
"I have some lunch for you, dear." Millie came around the side of the bed and set down the tray. She went to straighten the pillow.
"Don't move it too much, please, Millie, I'm not feeling well today." Sarah struggled and sat up a little in the bed.
"Let me help you eat, Sarah." Millie said.
Sarah was unresponsive. "I'm really not very hungry today." Millie scooted closer. She knew Sarah wasn't doing well. She had seen it many times before. Millie wondered if Sarah's family would be in to see her. Something would have to be done soon. Sarah was pale. So very pale and sad looking, thought Millie. She tried to get her to eat. She thought about how much Sarah had loved playing cards and how she had seemed to lose interest in the last few weeks.
Millie sat with Sarah most of the day and into the night between med rounds. When she finally went home she dropped to her knees, hungry cats mewing around her, and prayed. She prayed very hard this time, for some kind of sign. In the morning she went to mass again before work. At the center she checked on Sarah as often as she could. Sometimes they bounced back a little, but Sarah seemed to lose interest in playing cribbage and wanted to sleep most of the day. When Millie got home to her cats she was very sad. They taught you to not be sad at the retirement center when someone passes on, that death was a part of life. Millie had always had a hard time with that, not so much when she was younger, but more and more often in the last few years. Every time one of her friends went to God without her she felt all that more alone and left out. By daylight she knew what she must do.
It was 5:30 a.m. when Millie came into Sarah's room for the last time. She leaned into Sarah's ear and told her what God had said.
The pillow was the softest, nicest one that Millie could find. She hoped it didn't hurt too much as she pressed it over Sarah's face. Sarah struggled violently, hopelessly. When her arms came up clawing for Millie's face, Millie knew Sarah was reaching out for God. Finally Sarah's hands clutched and relaxed on the coverlet. An entire lifetime was over in a matter of minutes.
There was no i.v. drip, no machines to go off as Millie left to get the other nurses...
Millie lit a candle for Sarah at next mass. It was so important to help them go to God before they forgot who she was. Now she would have one more friend in heaven.
It rained the day of Sarah's funeral. Some of Sarah's children had flown in from Boston and cried as the casket was lowered into the ground. Millie didn't cry. She knew God's truth and looked forward to the cribbage games. Millie always made a point to go to the funerals. One last good-bye for now, one look at the nieces that didn't have time to come visit. It always seemed to rain.
Millie had been collecting friends in heaven for years, ever since she had begun to feel the pangs of old age herself. Denise had been the hardest. She had really struggled and as a result her ascent into heaven was messy. Millie had needed to clean up before she had called the head nurse.
Millie turned and walked with the other mourners to the funeral home. Normally she would take the day, off but not today.
Mrs. Franklin in 207 hadn't wanted much to eat lately.
