"She Never Stopped Living Life"

The phone call from her son came around 9:30 in the morning.  We chatted about the cold weather and exchanged our Thanksgiving experiences, a holiday which had just taken place several days earlier.  He then said, “Ladonna, I have some news to share with you about my Mom.  She passed away last night.”  Even though she had just recently turned 90, it was not what I was expecting to hear on that Monday morning.

I began working for Marty almost 8 years ago, which meant she was then in her early 80’s.  While not questioning her about her age, I guessed her to be in her mid-70’s.  She was never one I would have described as  "elderly" with her spry steps, sharp mind, and approach towards life.  When she did volunteer that piece of information, she commented that she didn’t like to tell people how old she was, because they treated her differently then.  It was obvious she was not one who was going to be treated as an old person.   

Marty was tiny, but mighty.  A woman who knew what she wanted and what she wanted done, she had been a successful career businesswoman, living abroad for several years in a time when it was not common for women to be in such positions.  The manner in which she carried herself and presented herself attested to her former life.  The woman knew style.  Even her everyday casual wear bore that out, her top tucked into her belted jeans or corduroy pants, always creating an outfit with matching colors.  I could only imagine what her professional wardrobe had looked like.   

She loved her garden and loved to garden and, as time wore on, reluctantly passed on to me the chores she loved doing.  Weeding was her all-time favorite.  I began saving areas of weeds close to her front door so she could conveniently spend time doing what she loved the most. 

Marty's rose garden, which she could see from her kitchen table, brought her the greatest joy.  I would often find pruned branches lying on the ground, as she could not resist the urge to tend and to shape her bushes. Ten days before her death she came down into her backyard where I was working.  “Now, Ladonna,” she said, “what needs to be done with the roses?”  I noted we needed to shorten the long branches, but save the hard pruning for late Winter. That is a task I will now do without her presence.      

Some time ago, she voluntarily gave up driving.  “I realized I needed to do that,” she said, “when I became aware that I really wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing."  


At the request of family members, I began driving her on errands, a version of “Driving Miss Daisy.”   Those were wonderful times, as we trekked to the market, the drug store, Bi-Mart, and even the mall. 


Each shopping excursion was an adventure from the very beginning as we went through the ritual of finding two sets of keys--one for me and one for her, having the shopping list in tow-which often included a search-and-find mission, and locking the doors in the house.  We never rushed out the door.  It was a process and took time. 


Once in the car, she made certain I had completed the necessary steps required to start the car, which included releasing the emergency brake and spritzing the windshield in order to remove any dust.  Backing out of the driveway was always done under supervision as a hedge blocked the view of the street, and she wanted to make certain there was no oncoming traffic. The route to the store was a tried-and-true, comfortable one Marty had used for years.  


I knew relinquishing her vehicle to another to drive was an enormous step for her.  The love of driving and the independence it provides is most difficult for any older person to concede.       


Never a "grab-and-go" shopper, Marty could easily have set the standard for comparison shoppers everywhere, as she checked price and quantity for everything from pain relievers to snack crackers.  She laboriously examined fruits and vegetables, soup choices, and labels. There was always at least one item on the list that was hidden in the store and entailed a treasure hunt approach.  Typically a 2-hour trip, it was a process, and it took time. She had planned going to the library the Saturday before she passed, but changed her mind. She said she was just too tired.  That was the last time I saw her.

When death takes a person, we reflect on the memories of the times and experiences shared.  While I did not know Marty for a large portion of her life, I have many, and that is what I have been doing.  Each one brings a smile.  

Even though her body had become oh, so very frail over the past year as her family celebrated her 90th birthday, she had projects and plans in the works.  This past summer included expanding a deck to give her more room and having her house painted.  Future plans included renovating her walkway, digging up the existing and replacing it with a medium she found more suitable.  When I go back into her garden, I will have a mental list of instructions she last gave me.  "That shrub over there needs to be cut back, doesn't it?" 

Living life, while it seems to be an obvious, is difficult for many.  Some older people, facing the last days of physical life, go dormant, simply waiting for the inevitable to come.  Not so Marty.  I have come up with my own personal epitaph: She Never Stopped Living Life. 

Something for each of us to consider. 

Marty--my friend.






"All I have asked you to do is to live your life."