A Mom's Passing: "Suspenders Snapped"

A Vince Gill/Patty Loveless duet, “Go rest high on that mountain for your work on Earth is done,” flowed through the room as your scribe leaned over and kissed Patsy Sue “Sudi” Perry on the forehead. The 86-year-old mother of four, grandma to eight and great-granny to four had taken a final breath. “Ma, you are loved. Thanks so much for always supporting my dreams. Way to finish strong.”

This feisty female had not been in good health. Quality of life? An abyss of total dependence upon others. The self-proclaimed, “Farm Girl” had a fierce independent streak. Like many of us, the sometimes acerbic one had trouble asking for help but much was necessary. Breathing. Rest room breaks. Eating. Relaxing. Moving around. Nothing was easy.

Then something miraculous happened. Mom let go. Transition began in earnest during a Thursday meeting with mom, my older sister, thyself and a representative of Primrose, where mom lived her final 18 months. We gathered to discuss Sudi’s declining health. Toward the end of the hour-long meeting, mom said something that deeply resonated: “I’m afraid to die.”

This was big news coming from an incredibly intelligent, but stubborn, woman who struggled expressing feelings. Over the years in our conversations, when asked tough questions, mom often in frustration would bellow, “I don’t know” concerning inquiries to what troubled her physically, emotionally or spiritually. But that admittance, “I’m afraid to die” sparked a conversation that, upon reflection, is a wonderful reminder to me, and hope for you, to the importance of letting go.

Once mom muttered fear of death, almost in unison, the three of us asked, “If you’re afraid to die, are you willing to take the necessary steps to live?” We had been talking about the importance of mom coming down for meals in the facility’s dining room, of socializing with fellow residents and, generally, demonstrating a desire to carry on. After a long pause, a less than enthusiastic answer emerged, “Maybe.”

Then another question was posed to the sports fan who took great pride in, “Being born the same day (June 28) as former Denver Broncos’ quarterback John Elway!” A quartet sat in momentary silence and reflection to the current misery and, understandably, ambivalent attitude toward efforts to rectify. After a pregnant pause, this was offered. “Ma, this current condition sucks, you don’t have the energy to change it, so how about this? How about just letting go and, ya know, see what happens?”

You could see it. Something clicked inside the mind, heart and soul of a woman who, like most of us, experienced a fair share of ups and downs. Nomadic is an appropriate word explaining the travels, trials and tribulations of Patricia Sue Perry. The end-of-life journey started later this day with an overnight trip to the hospital because of breathing issues. Then mom returned to Primrose about six the morning of Good Friday, settled in her room and went to work dying.

I arrived shortly before nine that morning. “Mark, get to your mom’s room, she’s fading quickly.” What transpired the next five hours was blissful. Surrounded by loved ones, friends, incredibly competent and loving hospice personnel, the diminutive fighter heard praise, songs like “Go Rest High” and was engulfed in love, compassion and prayer as life departed her tiny frame. In less than 24 hours, mom crossed the rainbow bridge.

Sister and I stayed with mom’s body till the funeral home arrived and took her away. The timing was perfect. A dependable mom who always got a sports-crazy boy to games and practices on time, remained faithful to the finish. It was 4:30 Good Friday afternoon. 30 minutes before a long-anticipated reunion with college fraternity brothers. It had been planned for weeks. Many knew mom well but knew from text updates my attendance was in jeopardy depending on mom’s condition. Arriving on time, buddies embraced me with love and support and learned, “Mom got her long-stated wish of, ‘Snapping her suspenders and shooting straight up’” We laughed, cried and saluted, Sudi.

Ma, what a fantastic finish. I pray it bodes well for abundant heavenly peace!