Meme’s Maxims

by Donna Poole

Lucilla felt like she was swimming up, up, up from somewhere deep and quiet.

How long have I been sleeping?

Semi-conscious now, Lucilla was once again aware of her surroundings, but she was still too tired to open her eyes.

I wish the nurses would stop calling my family and telling them I’m dying. I have no intention of leaving until I’ve finished writing my Meme’s Maxims.

She listened to her family talking quietly; it was a comforting sound. Then she heard the quick footsteps she recognized.

Oh, no, not young Pastor Osten, my least favorite pastor from church. Please, Lord, help me be gracious.

Lucilla hoped her inner grin wasn’t showing on her face as she remembered how many times Jerry had asked her to stop calling Pastor Osten “Pastor Ostentatious.”

“Honey,” he’d said, “I know you only call him that at home and would never hurt his feelings on purpose, but what if you slip up and call him Pastor Ostentatious at church sometime?”

“I know you’re right, but he brags about everything, his suits, his car, his degrees; he even said he has more books in his library than all the other staff pastors combined! I don’t know how they put up with him.”

Jerry said, “He’s young, honey. Give him time.”

Memories were forgotten as the footsteps came closer, too close. She could feel his breath on her face.

Ugh! Personal space. His nose must be about touching mine. I can’t stand the smell of that flowery fragrance he calls his signature scent. And he even brags about how much it costs. How does he even afford that stuff on an associate pastor’s pay?

Lucilla held her breath to keep from gagging.

“Oh no!” Pastor Osten shouted. “Is Sister Lucilla no longer with us?”

She forced her eyes to open. “Perhaps,” she said, with just a tiny edge to her voice, “Amazon might have a book on pastoral hospital visitation etiquette.”

She winked at the granddaughter who’d giggled then closed her eyes again, so she didn’t have to converse. She was too tired, and besides, supposedly dying people can die in peace if they so wish.

Pastor Osten mumbled a few hasty words to her family and then prayed for her. It was a sweet prayer, minus his usual formality, and he stuttered a few times, something she’d never heard him do. She felt sorry for him, but she didn’t open her eyes again until she heard his footsteps going down the hall.

Then she looked at her family, blue eyes sparkling with life, and grinned.

“Mom!” a daughter said. “You’re terrible!”

Then the whole room erupted into laughter.

“I guess you have no intention of dying today?” a son asked.

“I do not. So, you might as well all go home and wait for the next call from the nurses. Go on, now. I think you’ve probably been here all night.”

They looked hesitantly at one another. “Well, if you’re sure….”

“I’m sure. Now, go.”

With hugs and kisses they left. Last to leave was a granddaughter, the one who’d giggled.

She hugged Lucilla and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Meme.”

Lucilla sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that to Pastor Ostentatious.”

“Meme!” Her granddaughter roared with laughter. “What did you just call him?”

Lucilla groaned. “God still has a lot of work to do on me. Please, honey, don’t grow up to be like me.”

“Too late. I already did.”

Lucilla smiled at her, their first-born grandchild, the one Grandpa always called “Number One.” “I’ll love you forever and like you for always,” she said to her.

The room felt a little darker and colder when her granddaughter left, even though a bright warm sun was pouring through the windows.

Then Lucilla took out her notebook and pencil. “Now, let me see, where was I?”

At the top of the page she’d written, “Meme’s Maxims.” There was so much she still wanted to say to all her family, things she couldn’t remember if she’d said a hundred times before or not at all.

So far, she’d written just one thing on the paper: 1. Always do everything you can do and then do a little more.

She tapped the pencil on the paper and wrote, 2. Via con Dios—always go on with God.

3. Remember I love you.

4. Show love to everyone, even people you don’t like. I’m still learning this.

5. You don’t have to let every thought in your head come out of your mouth. I’m still learning this too.

Thoughts tumbled over each other in her mind.

 I think I’m going to need another notebook to get all this down!

She felt the pencil slipping from her fingers.

It was dark when she woke again.

A voice whispered, “Is she still breathing?”

She felt a hand on her chest. A tear dripped on her face.

“I’m still here,” Lucilla said to her daughter. “Have you been taking lessons from Pastor Osten?”

Her granddaughter giggled, and then the entire room erupted in laughter.

A nurse came into the room smiling.

“Nurse, you people need to stop calling my family. I’m not going to die until I finish writing my Meme’s Maxims, and at the rate I’m going, that’s probably going to take me at least another year.”

The nurse laughed. “Hospice has been wrong before. We had another patient, a lot like you. Only every time she had a spell she fell out of bed. Her heart stopped beating; she’d signed a DNR, so we did nothing. She’d wake up and be upset because she wanted to go to heaven. She’d say, ‘Oh no, am I still here?’”

“Well, I want to go to heaven too, just not quite yet,” Lucilla said. “How long did that other woman live after the first time she almost died?”

“At least two years,” the nurse answered.

“What did I tell you?” Lucilla said to her family. “Now you people go home and get some rest.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” a daughter-in-law said. “Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day!”

Lucilla smiled. “I’m too tired this year, but next year I’d love it if we could all go to church together on Mother’s Day!”

When everyone was gone except the nurse Lucilla picked up the notebook and pencil. “I want to finish this. I have hundreds of things I still want to say.”

“You look tired. Why don’t you write more tomorrow?”

“Okay. Was that story about the other lady you told me really true? And do you think I might still be here next Mother’s Day?”

“It was true, and I think maybe your family better decide where you’re all going to go to church together next year.”

Lucilla smiled. “I think I want to hear Pastor Ostentatious preach next year. Maybe he and I will both be more grown up by then.”

The nurse chuckled. “Is that really his name? That’s a funny name for a pastor.”

But Lucilla was already asleep and dreaming of heaven, the place she wanted to go, just not yet.

The End

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

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