Even in death, Minnie Mae still shows us the way

In her dying, Minnie Mae continued to instruct me.

She gave her daughters and her husband lessons in dying, something we too often leave to professionals.

Minnie Mae felt that respect was the most important element in a relationship. And she earned our respect -- gave us a model to follow -- in the way she cut through the confusion of dementia to stop medications, food, and fluids.

Minnie Mae taught me that dying can be beautiful. In the nine days she slept her life away without pain or lack of dignity, my daughters and I were usually with her, and I think she knew it. We had a chance to remember, to laugh, and to wipe our eyes.

The process was natural, fitting to Minnie Mae, who'd always been natural, just herself, take it or leave it. This is how I lived, and now this is how I'll die. I was holding her hand when the moment came, a sudden deep gulp of air and nothing. A kiss on her forehead as gentle and awkward as our first kiss 54 years ago.

Minnie Mae also taught me that I was not alone. Often impressed, often irritated, she was surprised when in a supermarket or a doctor's office I became friends with strangers.

But she has left me in the town where she knew I would have friends -- old and new. I had been aware, of course, of our many friends, but when Minnie Mae passed, I was astonished at the extent and depth of the relationships that would support my living on.

I learned from the expert care she received at Kirkwood Corners and from Seacoast Hospice that there were invisible communities waiting to give comfort, respect, and care to me in my last days.

I'll continue to live my life so I can earn Minnie Mae's respect. A stone will not be her only memorial, but my living and her daughters' living and her grandchildren's living. We'll all be her memorial.

When I married Minnie Mae, I was a newspaper reporter, but she found I had ambitions to write magazine articles, poems, books. Not having been contaminated by the angst that infects English majors, she was startled when in a beery attack of self pity, I burned what I had written.

Minnie Mae grabbed one manuscript and sent it off to Rotarian Magazine. When it was published, I stopped burning the pages I wrote and sent them off. It's Minnie Mae who's responsible for the columns, poems, articles, and books that have been published since.

Don't worry, Minnie Mae, the instruction from Horace, nulla dies sinelinea [never a day without a line], will remain on my writing desk, and each morning when I sit to practice my craft, you will be beside me, correcting the spelling, pointing out what needs to be cut.