Almanac Life: Nanna’s final days

 

John Harms’s mother, Fay, died on Tuesday, November 5 (2024). John put a few words together about her final days…

 

 

 

Just over three weeks ago, Nanna (my mother, Fay) mowed the lawn of her beautiful garden. At 84, she completed the task in a couple of sessions.

 

And then she spent more time in the garden, as she had done, every day, forever.

 

Later that week, she wasn’t feeling so well. Short of breath, she spent Saturday afternoon in Emergency where one test led to another, and then another, and she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She had been living with breast cancer, which was in remission, but this was new.

 

Nanna decided not to have any treatment, at all. She was ready to go; ready to be in Heaven.

 

In an instant, family descended on her Mt Barker home from around the country.

 

It was clear Nanna was suffering, but she was getting around with her walking stick – when she remembered to use it. Her big, green chair became her refuge.

 

The toilet seat needed fixing, a job my brother Peter felt qualified to undertake. He did a good job.

 

The TV was on. Choral music.

 

I suggested she have a Bailey’s.

 

“It’s three o’clock,” she said.

 

“So?” I said. “If ever there was a time…”

 

Her eyes lit up. “Well, I suppose I could.”

 

“Do you want ice in it?” I asked.

 

“Oh no,” she said, authoritatively. “Definitely no ice. It spoils the last mouthful.”

 

Along with another Endone, the Bailey’s did the trick.

 

“Why don’t we walk around the garden?” we suggested.

 

She was up like a shot, a very slow shot, and we made our way out.

 

No architect could have designed the flow that is the house into the garden, and the garden into the house. Both have been sanctuaries since she and Poppa set their home up in 1996.

 

We started with the vege garden where the potatoes are flourishing, the beetroots look healthy and the peas are producing.

 

Then we dawdled towards the old cherry tree which, mercifully, the early-arriving brothers had already netted. The fruit on the young cherry tree, a season old, was also showing a hint of colour.

 

Nanna was pointing with her walking stick. “We need to cut the chrysanthemums back,” she said.

 

A few more steps. “I just haven’t done any weeding,” she said.

 

“We’ll need to bag a few of the apples,” she said. “Just a section here and a section there. The birds can have the rest.”

 

We drifted towards the compost heap. Next to the path, three early tomato plants thrived inside their mini-greenhouses, individual frames wrapped with clear plastic. I peered in to see the delicate yellow flowers, and was surprised to see a few little tomatoes, just set. She pointed to a tendril. “Do you think we can train this all the way to the trellis on the fence?” she asked.

 

Then Nanna took us to the front garden. It’s always a roses spring in the Hills, and the Barossa, but this one has been particularly beautiful. Rose bushes are laden with blooms.

 

A car pulled up in the driveway.

 

“It’s Jane,” Nanna said.

 

Jane got out of the car. Nanna noticed Hetty in the passenger seat.

 

“I’m going to beat you to Heaven, Hetty,” Nanna said.

 

Hetty laughed, a radiant smile under lively octogenarian eyes. She had one of those Lutheran perms that comes with a capacity for great love, humility and a sense of service.

 

They didn’t stay for long.

 

Other visitors popped in. Carlein had baked a kuchen.

 

Nanna eventually made it back to her director’s chair under the wisteria. She continued to point with her stick – very Cecil B. DeMille.

 

The pardalotes have again taken up residence in the baskets of pansies and purple-blue lobelia. It’s why Nanna has baskets.

 

“Listen,” Nanna said. “The pardalotes sing: ‘there’s a bear in there’.”

 

Nanna sang: “There’s a bear in there.”

 

We were listening for the five notes. Like we were watching Play School again, more than half a century on.

 

She tired. We put her back in her green chair to watch Tipping Point.

 

She was still playing Scrabble.

 

***

 

That Saturday, even more family got to Nanna’s. Mick and Nell. Peter and Fiona, and their daughter Laura. Ben was in Brisbane, with final year exams. More grandkids now. Thomas and his partner Liz.

 

It became a gardening bee, only this time Nanna had to be wheeled around in her chair.

 

Theo and Laura did the chrysanthemums. Some had a go at mowing. The weeding went on throughout the afternoon. The sprinklers did their job.

 

Nanna was in a cycle of comfortable, then uncomfortable, then comfortable again. But she could hear the conversations, the laughter.

 

On Sunday night the local Lutheran minister, Pastor Greg, gave Nanna communion.

 

The next morning she left her home of nearly thirty years on the Monday morning, to be at David and Irene’s in Adelaide for her final days. This was their great gift to Nanna and to all of us. Every detail was silently and sensitivity addressed.

 

***

 

At the start of that week, Nanna went on to heavier pain-killers and sedatives. The palliative care nurses were wonderful. They are special people.

 

We held her hand. We listened to music and ‘watched’ Les Mis, The Sound of Music and Fried Green Tomatoes.

 

She could chat, briefly – and we remembered lots of things together. The Tent Hill farm. Her family. Poppa. The various parishes and some of the people she had known.

 

She’d sit in the chair dozing, her breathing obvious and at times laboured. Occasionally her voice would come out of nowhere. “I’ve got a $31 credit with the electricity company,” she told us while Forrest Gump was on.

 

Nanna started to share her time between that big, green chair, which Oliver had brought down from Mt Barker in his ute, and her bed. She made a huge effort every night to sit at the packed dinner table.

 

Family continued to come and go, the interstaters now staying – in the study and the spare room and the front room.

 

After being at a wedding in Perth, Samuel, the oldest grandchild, and Jess, arrived with nine-month old Eddie, Nanna’s only great grandchild. He was wearing a Geelong beanie. Emma popped in too.

 

That night, Harry, Angus and Grace sent photos from a night out: Angus had just been told he has a place in Medicine and they were celebrating at Naked for Satan, a bar in Fitzroy. Nanna didn’t ask about the venue.

 

They were able to fly over on Monday to say goodbye.

 

**

 

David and Peter, with Fiona helping, made sure Nanna’s pain was controlled and she wasn’t feeling anxious. They did this as doctors, but even more as family.

 

**

 

These were happy-sad days. Memorable days.

 

Eventually, Nanna spent all of her time in bed, quiet hymns playing.

 

We had our time sitting with her. Theo, Anna and Evie said goodbye. Then Susan.

 

She was very near the end.

 

During her final hours, for just a moment, her face was animated by Bethany’s hug and Oliver’s voice. She stirred again an hour later, then closed her eyes to sleep, and we were all around as David stroked her forehead and rubbed her shoulder.

 

She passed away minutes later. David turned to us. “She loved us so much,” he said.

 

She was in Heaven.

 

**

 

The concepts of enormity, infinity, eternity are difficult to grasp. Theo has helped me to contemplate the nature of The Universe, which has fascinated him forever.
Nanna always said she was a Lockyer Valley farm girl who left school at Junior and worked in a bank for a while. She appeared to have a catechism and text card understanding of Life. It was a blessing for her.

 

To watch her live was to witness a profound philosophy. She would have baffled psychologists who’d have prodded and poked but found not even a hint of self-absorption.

 

She was a woman of great faith and great love.

 

One day when we were still in Mt Barker, we were talking about everything being perfect in the after-life. She thought for a minute. “In Heaven,” she said, “Would you be a batsman or a bowler?”

 

Eternity lies somewhere in that question.

 

**

 

The chrysanthemums will bloom just before Mothers’ Day.

 

 

Fay Dorothy Harms, born January 2, 1940, died late on November 5, 2024. Her funeral will be held at St Mark’s Lutheran Church, Mt Barker, at 1pm on Monday, Nov 18, followed by afternoon tea. The streaming link will become available on the Kleemann Family Funerals site.

 

We are grateful to the magnificent team of caring people from Adelaide Central Palliative Care.