Beginnings....and Endings

I met her when I was less than six months old. She accompanied the nervous new parents as they brought "home" their newly adopted daughter. Of course, I don't remember this, for I was the daughter, and she was my aunt Ella.

Over 50 years later as we sat mourning the death of my mother, her sister, she told me of that ride home; Dad driving, glancing at Mom holding me in her arms. From what Ella said, my father reached over to touch my hand, and I curled my wee fingers around his. It was the beginning of a deep love that lasted throughout the next 33 years until my father's death.

As she was with me on the day of my "birth" into the family, I was honored to be with Ella this past Wednesday as she began her journey to cross from this life to the next. When the call came that Ella had been hospitalized, there was nothing more important than to get there, to be with my family, to do what I could to help.

Pat and Barb, Ella's daughters, and other family members were worn out from the events of the past few days as Ella's health declined. They needed to rest, and when they were ready, I was willing to take the watch in the early morning hours so they could get some sleep. I sat by Ella's bedside while she slept with the latest dosage of drugs which soothed her frantic body as it readied itself for death. There were many memories of my nearly 55 years with Ella.

One of my earliest memories involves the misuse of the telephone. Bright child that I was, I listened to my Mom tell the operator - this was back in the days of manually operated switchboards with women who connected the lines - to please dial "Olympia 3-3-3-6-1" And, sometimes Mom would let me talk to Ella; a big treat for a toddler.

Mom was somewhere else. I think she may have been hanging out the laundry. I took it upon myself to climb up on the chair, pick up the heavy receiver and put it to my ear, like I'd seen my mother do.

"Please dial Olympia 3-3-3-6-1" my little voice commanded. And the operator connected me to my beloved aunt.

The problem with this was not that I called. The problem was that I kept calling. And calling. And calling some more. I have no idea how many times that poor operator connected me to Ella, and I'm sure Ella probably had far better things to do than keep picking up the phone only to hear my voice on the other end!

Eventually, she called Mom. And, eventually my small bottom was paddled to get the idea across that it was just time to stop. As I said, I was a bright child. I made that connection pretty quickly!

Amazingly, over the years that phone number went from "Olympia" to "OL" and eventually became the seven digit number (minus the area code) we use today. But the last five numbers have remained 3-3-3-6-1 throughout. The day will come soon when Pat and Barb will contact the phone company to turn off the phone. I wish phone companies would retire numbers that have had such a long, continuous history. It doesn't seem right that anyone else ever have that phone number.

Ella's life was not always an easy one. But those things are not my tale to tell, and so I won't spend time writing tremendous detail of family history.

You may have noticed that I'm very proud of my Irish heritage. I am proud to say I am part of the Monaghan clan.

My clan consisted of aunts, uncles, cousins. We had wonderful times together, and even now when we get the chance, we relive a lot of memories. But, the strength of our family came from the Monaghan girls. My mother, Rita, my aunt, Ella, and my aunt Florence, who we called Monie (short for Monaghan, of course!)

And, being Irish, a wee draught could cross the lips every now and again; it made for some lively times. But the drink has its dark side, and there was a point when Ella fell prey to the evil within the spirits she drank. These dark times were very hard on the family, and the day came when my mother told her sister that if she didn't get help, then my mother would disown her and not speak to her again. It killed my mother to speak those words to her sister, but they were necessary.

Such was the strength of love between the sisters. Ella sought treatment and never drank again.

After my dad died in 1985, Mom spent a lot of time with Ella, especially on Sunday afternoons. They laughed, played cards or games, and it quickly became a meeting place for the various siblings to gather. Ella's husband died in 1990 and the girls leaned on each other for support. Their other sister, Monie, traveled back to Iowa as often as she could. The family gatherings were intensified when the three sisters were together. We heard jokes, told stories, caught up on everything that happened.

Ella took my mother's death very hard, as did the rest of us. So, it was no surprise to me to hear that Ella had told Barb that Mom had come to visit with her just a few nights before Ella was hospitalized. I wish I would have had the chance to hear some of what that conversation was. I'm sure it was wonderful. I do know that it gave Ella tremendous peace.

Last year, Ella's other sister, Monie, became ill and passed away. Ella had become the sole matriarch of the Monaghan clan. It was a role she didn't want. We've watched her health suffer these last few months; it was no surprise to get the phone call that indicated the end of Ella's lifetime was near.

Somewhere in the dark hours Barb and I watched as Ella's chest heaved with effort to get enough oxygen to breathe. Maybe it wasn't my job to do, but I spoke to Ella while I had the chance.

"Ella, I hear you had a good visit with Mom a couple of days ago. I have to tell you I'm really jealous that you are going to get to see her very soon. I really miss her, and I'm going to miss you, too. But, I know you're hurting and I want to tell you that it's okay to let go and go meet Mom, Monie, and everyone who's waiting for you to join them. It's going to be hard not having you here, but we'll be okay."

Barb and I held Ella's hands and continued to talk to her. Ella calmed down and seemed to relax at our words.

When Barb went to catch some more sleep, I stayed at Ella's side, holding her hand, talking to her when she became restless. Just before dawn her breathing began to labor in the way that told me that there was not much time left.

The nurses came in and gave Ella another dose of Atavan to relieve her anxiety. It had reached the place that Atavan alone was no longer going to be effective. When her doctor came in, he ordered a small dose of morphine to relieve any pain she might have had. It seemed to take a long time for the morphine to arrive; in fact, as I held Ella's hand, her eyes opened and she looked at me. I said, "Ella, are you in pain?" And, she gasped, "Yes."

I sent Pat to find out where the morphine was at. It was but a few minutes till the nurse came in and gave her the drug. Within a few minutes, Ella eased into a pain-free place. Though her breathing was labored, she was more relaxed.

It was time for me to go before I was so tired the 40 mile drive would have been too much. I needed to leave, find sleep for myself. I told Pat and Barb that I'd be back that evening after I was done teaching to let them get some rest. I didn't tell them that I thought it would be over before then. I held Ella's hand for a little bit, pushed her hair back off her forehead and told her I was leaving to get some sleep and would be back soon. I felt a little squeeze from her hand.

But, the gods were merciful and opened the gate so Ella's soul could find its way. She passed from this plane around 2 p.m., October 11. She waited till her family was out of the room, then slipped away peacefully.

With Ella's death a generation is done, and Pat, Barb and I have become the next generation to carry on the legacy of the Monaghan women. I hope we will do them proud.

And, if you listen very carefully, you'll hear a joyous reunion taking place in the Summerlands. I'm sure it's one hellova party - the Monaghan girls are back together again!