A Generation goes Silent …

On Wednesday, 11/5/25, I wrote the following:

Shirley (to everyone who knows her), mom (to me and my sister), sis (to her younger sibling), GG (to the grand- and great-grand kids), is actively dying. If I understand the hospice nurse correctly, this a normal phase of closing out a life when a person moves from existing in the here and now to a more liminal state of being. Apparently hearing remains quite acute even if the ability to move and communicate is severely compromised. To the alarm of friends and loved ones, breathing during the dying process can also vary greatly with many people experiencing Cheyne-Stokes respiration in addition to agonal breathing, and Biot’s respiration. Morphine is often administered to relax the muscles and lungs to overcome these issues.

Talking to the hospice nurse, it sounded like a good time to call in the troops. And my oh my, how quickly everyone mobilized to support GG. Bethany quickly cancelled appointments for Thursday and Friday, jumped in her car and sped down to Eugene, arriving in the late evening. Tammi changed her flight plans for the following weekend. Sammi started searching for substitute teachers. The family clicked into high gear to support their loved one.

Exactly one month has gone by, and I am sitting at my computer on 12/5/25 staring out the window into a gloomy, sodden Friday afternoon. It is only 3:00 p.m., but darkness already threatens to overwhelm the monochromatic, steely gray infused light. The house is quiet, and I have a moment to reflect on the month that has been.

My eldest daughter, Bethany (WA), was the first to arrive, followed quickly by my sister Tammi (CA), then by daughter Sammi (WA), son-in-law Jacob and granddaughter Parker. The next day, Chok Pin (Australia) touched down in Eugene after a long flight, and my niece Eilene (PA) also landed at the airport. A week of reunions and long visits with my mom ensued. To everyone’s delight, the symptoms that prompted the summons to her bedside subsided and were replaced by what the nurse said was a not unexpected “major rally.”

Looking back, the house took on a holiday vibe: the bustling, the chirps and dings of phones, the toys spread around by Parker’s imaginative play and half finished cups of coffee in city-themed mugs strewn around on the countertops. I savored the banter over the free-form breakfast buffets as everyone shared plans for the day to come. At some point, it became evident that my mom needed to replenish her lipstick, and Bethany offered to procure the Revlon product in the specific shade of Raisin Rage which was promptly adopted as the official color of the Watson women.

The sense of amazement and gratitude never left me. Shirley was engulfed in a deluge of loving care. None of us could be sure that this was the last time we would be able to visit with her in person, but no one wanted to miss the opportunity just in case. When the time arrived for everyone to say their goodbyes, our company would number 10, including Petey, our “spoodle” (spaniel/poodle cross). Always a “good boy,” at least by my estimation, Petey handled all the hubbub remarkably well. The commotion often drove him under the table or into a corner to gnaw on a collagen bone, but he was good-natured and willing to spread his doggy cheer (e.g., we have a number of photos of Petey laying on a blanket at the foot of GG’s bed).

Typical of her modus operandi, mom rose to the occasion of greeting her loved ones. She still fatigued quickly given any physical effort, but her desire to connect proved to be boundless. In the three days that followed the exodus of her company, mom’s energy flagged, and she rarely moved around unless it was to use the restroom, a determination of iron will and perseverance that she maintained until almost the very end. But, the best visit was yet to come, and I knew mom would rally a final time.

On Sunday, 11/16/25, I picked up my mom’s younger sister, Edna Faye, (Aunty Faye to me), at the airport after she completed the long trek to Eugene from her home in Kielaspuglonane, County Clare, Ireland. Mom knew Edna was coming, but I do not think the reality sunk in until their reunion at Waterford Grand. And what a joyful reunion it was! Edna spent every day of the following week with Shirley sharing memories of their shared and separate lives, recounting life on the farm, growing up in Lynden, WA surrounded by their Dutch relatives, and experiences with their deeply loved life partners, Knute and Milt. Although mom’s increasing frailty and decreasing stamina was evidenced by the fact that she took a lot of naps punctuated with erratic breathing, Edna was able to bolster her strength by encouraging and assisting with meals and hydration. A predilection for milkshakes was happily obliged by WG staff.

Aunty Faye’s visit was also a source of elation for both Janet and me. Her days were spent at Shirley’s side, but we had the opportunity to visit in the evenings over dinner. It was very helpful to get her perspective on mom’s condition and illuminating to hear bits and pieces of Kiel family history hitherto unbeknown. For example, Aunty Faye told us about the dilapidated car that Grandpa Kiel bought my mom so she could drive herself to a cannery job that she held while in high school. One night leaving the cannery, the car caught fire and burned up! Fortunately, mom’s cousins were present to lend assistance. “Shorty,” as grandpa nicknamed my mom, escaped injury and lived to drive a newer vehicle that was not a death-trap.

A week passed, and we were sad to see Aunty Faye leave Eugene. On the way to the airport, we speculated about how things would go for Shirley now that the whirlwind of family visits had come to an end. Sure enough, the drop off in well being was steep and fast. By Tuesday, mom’s appetite waned to the point where meals went uneaten, sitting unopened in the to-go containers set on a plastic tray. She fell into a deep, sometimes restless, sleep for most of the day, and, by Thursday, was moved to her bed, never to get up again.

Our girls and their families drove down to Eugene from Puyallup to celebrate Thanksgiving and were able to say their final goodbyes. I will cherish the tender moments they spent next to their dying grandmother, stroking her head, singing hymns, reading from her Bible and telling her how much they loved her. It was hard to see their tears and distress, and I was profoundly moved by their love and compassion. Alex, mom’s oldest grandchild, had the brilliant idea of bringing the live tree we had put on the balcony into the room where it added a festive touch to the ambiance. Janet organized an effort to create photo ornaments that featured smiling family members, a physical manifestation of the love for Shirley.

On late Saturday afternoon, Janet and I came into her apartment and were met by one of the hospice nurses. She let us know that mom had passed away around 3:00 p.m. We talked for a bit, and she left to phone the mortuary to come and make a pickup. WG staff had given my mom and sponge bath and dressed her in a clean nightgown. She lay on the bed in peaceful repose. I laid my hand on her cool forehead and said goodbye to the amazing woman that was the last of the four grandparents to leave their earthside journey. Mom had talked frequently about wanting to be with my dad, so my lasting image is their heaven side embrace and the beginning of an eternal dance.

This past week has been a blur of activity, but that is for another post. Right now, I am soaking in the silence and remembering the undying love of a wonderful and devoted mother.