Mrs. Willie Lee Parks "Cousin Willie", R.I.P.

Driving to a poetry set one Sunday, I thought of my Cousin Willie. In her 90's, she was in a nursing home, eating pureed crap I know she couldn't stand but ate anyway 'till she could no longer stand it anymore. I even fed it to her. It got to the point I didn't like coming to see her during lunch, but it was really the only time I could actually interact with her. And she appreciated it. Sometimes, it seemed she couldn't believe I would actually come all the way out to the North Side to visit her. That made me sad.

What also made me sad, as I was driving to that poetry set, was that I wished she wasn't living that life in that nursing home anymore. I know she hated it, and she wanted to go home. But there was no way she could go back home. It was literally "the end of the road" for her.

I actually wanted her to pass, and there was a part of me that felt guilty about that for a minute. I hated seeing her suffer; wanting her to pass felt like some selfish desire on my part. But at the same time, I had another selfish agenda. I wanted her to live, too. Because I would miss her.

She went into hospice last week. Her heart rate was very low, and her body cold. The doctor didn't expect her to last the night, but the next day, she rallied. Her heart rate went up; extremities warmed. It was as if she didn't want to enter that corridor to the unknown. She fought with ALL HER MIGHT to stay here. She was breathing so laboriously, I didn't know how her frail, aging frame could keep up with the energy she had to be expending to breathe like that. Heavy; in and out, through the mouth. Not congested, but very laborious. Her throat had to be parched. Her son and the nurses had to sponge lubricants in her mouth, to keep it moist.

I did sing to her once. I felt self-conscious about singing to her while others were around. I managed to get some time alone with her earlier in the week, and sang lyrics I wrote to Monk's Mood, a Thelonius Monk composition.

Last night, I crashed on the couch in her hospice room. Her son had left hours before. I didn't leave until close to 2am. I could've sung to her then, but I didn't. Felt kinda "groggy"; thought it better to get on the road. Fortunately, it was a short drive.

Didn't sleep well, once I got home. It was hot (I'm conserving on a/c); and because I slept earlier, I wasn't that sleepy anymore.

This morning, her son/my cousin called to say she passed around 9am. He was with her the entire time. I'm glad she didn't die alone. Maybe that's why I stayed so late the other night. The a/c was refreshing, too.

I feel kinda empty today. I don't have her to visit anymore. No one to tend to; I liked bringing her clothing items, and finding good deals on natural body products. I felt since this was "the end of the road" for her, I'd try to provide her with some of the finer things.

Just now, I was reminded of another relative that I loved dearly, that was also in a nursing home before she passed. My aunt; Cousin Willie's first cousin. I'd like to dedicate a blog to "Sis"; don't want to go into her story here, except to say I may have been making up for the attention I did not give my aunt. Hers is a pretty complicated story. I'll save for later.

Cousin Willie and her sister Lois were very cool. I used to like to visit Lois, too. She died several years earlier from a liver disease. I only got familiar with them both about a year before Lois passed. My mother brought me by their houses one day (the sisters lived around the corner from each other). Mommy said she wanted me to know my cousins. Glad she did that.

Down-to-earth. I really loved them both for that. Plus, Cousin Willie provided a lot of "history" of my mother's side of the family; the Jackson side. What a history! It reads like a scandalous novel. THAT's another story, too.

Cousin Willie was the last that could tell those stories. I'll miss her, but I'm glad I got to know and love her. Haven't been able to bring myself to sing for her yet. It will come, I guess...