A couple of weeks ago, the Yutzys persuaded me to pay one more visit to Bertha. She was stationed in a hospital bed in the living room of their grandpa house, surrounded by a sea of close relatives. Comatose, but still responding through the raising and lowering of her eyebrows, Bertha lay in a white gown on immaculate white sheets, a prayer cap on her head, the strings tied under her chin.
Oct 19, 2023·edited Oct 19, 2023Liked by Mary Swander
I am a 2nd generation American.
My parents and all their siblings are deceased.
My cousins may be scattered or close by, but we are not in touch.
I have no stories about the old country. No places, events, homes, or people.
Oh America!
Where is your culture?
Where are your traditions?
When I hear of a culture with strong family and community relationships I'm sad and jealous. My only sister recently passed. One of her sons was with her. I had been there, but since it seemed there was time, I was not there when she drew her last breath. That will always haunt me. But without tradition and experience, how was I to know? My mother sent her children away as she was dying because she didn't want our final memory to be her corpse. She said that when she was a girl, and her mother was dying she stayed and was never able to remember her without that image. My father was in the hospital, in his 80's and clearly declining. Staff came in to transfer him to a gurney for testing or images on another floor. They asked me to please step outside. When they rolled him out of the room I stopped them and said "He isn't breathing." They rushed him back into the room, but he was already gone. There's another close death, but I still cannot write about it. I was on my way, but too late.
What a blessing it must be to have such a tightly knit family, strong community, and established traditions for all phases of life!
We have a lot of things in America, but a healthy, vigorous, national culture is not something that has been transplanted or created. At least not for me. Surrounded by things and people, I find myself feeling evermore empty and alone.
Bertha and her family and her community are doing something right and I commend them for it.
My brother David Zahrt died during the pandemic, and I could not get there because I now live in Canada and the border was closed. My niece was with him in the evening when the end was imminent and called me from his bedside to ask if I wanted to talk to him. I did. I told him all the stories I could about how he had made a positive difference he had made in the world, and what I was grateful for. Heidi told me she could hear his breathing change and become calmer as I talked to him. He died in his sleep that night. I am grateful.
Your presence must have been a blessing for your neighbors who also blessed you by gathering you into their circle. We are blessed to read your beautiful account. Thank you, Mary.
So beautiful, Mary. So right for you to be there helping to gather them all together. Such a holy passing.
Lovely. I felt so much like I was there, I got teary reading it. Godspeed Bertha.
I am a 2nd generation American.
My parents and all their siblings are deceased.
My cousins may be scattered or close by, but we are not in touch.
I have no stories about the old country. No places, events, homes, or people.
Oh America!
Where is your culture?
Where are your traditions?
When I hear of a culture with strong family and community relationships I'm sad and jealous. My only sister recently passed. One of her sons was with her. I had been there, but since it seemed there was time, I was not there when she drew her last breath. That will always haunt me. But without tradition and experience, how was I to know? My mother sent her children away as she was dying because she didn't want our final memory to be her corpse. She said that when she was a girl, and her mother was dying she stayed and was never able to remember her without that image. My father was in the hospital, in his 80's and clearly declining. Staff came in to transfer him to a gurney for testing or images on another floor. They asked me to please step outside. When they rolled him out of the room I stopped them and said "He isn't breathing." They rushed him back into the room, but he was already gone. There's another close death, but I still cannot write about it. I was on my way, but too late.
What a blessing it must be to have such a tightly knit family, strong community, and established traditions for all phases of life!
We have a lot of things in America, but a healthy, vigorous, national culture is not something that has been transplanted or created. At least not for me. Surrounded by things and people, I find myself feeling evermore empty and alone.
Bertha and her family and her community are doing something right and I commend them for it.
An end of life process filled with music, care and comfort. Lovely way to leave the earth. Thanks for writing and sharing.
My brother David Zahrt died during the pandemic, and I could not get there because I now live in Canada and the border was closed. My niece was with him in the evening when the end was imminent and called me from his bedside to ask if I wanted to talk to him. I did. I told him all the stories I could about how he had made a positive difference he had made in the world, and what I was grateful for. Heidi told me she could hear his breathing change and become calmer as I talked to him. He died in his sleep that night. I am grateful.
Your words are so comforting and calming, Mary. You are a good neighbor. Rest In Peace Bertha
Your presence must have been a blessing for your neighbors who also blessed you by gathering you into their circle. We are blessed to read your beautiful account. Thank you, Mary.
Mary, just to let you know how much I admire these essays. All the best wishes, Ted Kooser
Humanity, compassion, and friendship at its best... Sal and Bec Valadez
Beautiful story of family and community. And God bless you, Mary -- you're a great neighbor.