Last weekend we traveled to Boston for perhaps our last time. After a decade of quick weekend trips to see Aunt Elva, we traveled to the Sherrill House to say goodbye to her in a meaningful service. The chaplain, Lindsey, knew Aunt Elva for six years. They first bonded over Lindsey's black and white companion cat -- Aunt Elva's favorite cat was a tuxedo cat named Duchess. Lindsey's cat has been replaced by a small white and black dog who visits Sherrill house and has warmed her way into everyone's heart, including mine.
Lindsey charged us with healing. People spoke so kindly about Aunt Elva. There were repeats of stories I knew, and a couple of new ones -- including one of her smoking. Martin divided her life into chapters: The Farm Girl, Thoroughoughly Modern Elva, etc. Elva graduated from Rider College in 1937, at a time when most women did not go to college. She was born in New York State, lived many years in Trenton and Ewing, and moved in her 90s to Massachusetts. Each time becoming stronger.
Aunt Elva Pillsbury passed away at age 105-years young, only 8 days shy of her 106th birthday. Over the weekend we thought of our nearly annual visits (see below) where she would share family history, her life before becoming a Pillsbury, and anything else on her mind. It was a privilege to know her, she was easy to love.
I know after death, people are suddenly afraid to say anything negative about the person, not to "speak ill of the dead." This tradition annoys me. If you complain about the person during their life, they do not suddenly turn into a saint in death. I'm sure Aunt Elva had her faults, but whining about her lot in life was not one of them. Nearly a decade ago she suffered a stroke which left her bedridden. Yes, that means until her late 90s she was living on her own. She moved to Boston in her 90s to be closer to Martin and Helen (Nancy lives in Colorado). It always struck me as odd that they moved her and her beloved cat, Duchess, into an apartment on the second floor of a house -- which means well into her 90s she was able to go up and down stairs. The night of her stroke she had family over for dinner -- yes, she was cooking and entertaining into her 90s. Helen called her soon after she came home to ask a question. When her mom did not answer, she went to her house and found her. Elva had a medical alert necklace, but took it off that evening because it didn't match her outfit. Fortunately Helen called her and worried. I think of the times we called Don's mom who was notorious for not answering if she had nothing to say and shudder.
A few days before her death Martin called to let us know the end was in sight. Though she was 105, somehow I felt she would live forever. We took a last trip on a rare quiet weekend in February. Her hearing was gone, and she had taken out her hearing aids because they were uncomfortable. When we arrived wearing masks, Elva went through the list of who we might be before Don took off his mask, and I wrote Bob's son, Don on her white board. It was our hardest visit because she couldn't hear, was having troubles reading what we wrote on the write board, and repeated questions about Ashley (she remembered where she was going to college, but not if she comes home every weekend). In past visits we could go three hours without repeating a conversation. This time we couldn't go a few minutes. When lunch came for her, we took our leave and walked around Boston looking for lunch for ourselves. When we came back she was asleep. We were tired, so we sat and napped with her for about an hour.
It was peaceful.
Sometimes all you can give another person is your presence.
In the past we brought her a new book. She was an avid reader -- her favorite genres were history and strong women. By her last visit we had heard her eyesight deteriorated too much to read. She had already lost the ability to watch TV. With COVID visits were more restricted. She had lost what interested her the most.
Other Aunt Elva Posts:
Our Boston trips often included seeing other people important to us, including NCB ("New Cousin Barbara"), someone who found us through ancestry.com. Her family adopted my great-great grandmother, Dora, actually I am very murky on the connection other than it turns out we are not technically related (to which my sister, Rebecca, changed the acronym to mean NOT Cousin Barbara), but we have much in common including having children born a month apart. NCB grew up a couple of miles away from me in Ridgewood. It is actually odd how much we have connected.
We also connected with Don's cousins, Martin, Helen, and Paul, who live in Boston.
For the past nearly 7 years each trip included a stop at a 99 Restaurant because NCB recommended we go to 99 to celebrate Aunt Elva's 99th birthday. 99 Restaurants are a fairly small chain of McPub style restaurants. Prices are reasonable. Ambiance is comfortable. Each location is a little different, all focusing on local sports teams plus the Red Sox. They have tin ceilings and booths. We found we preferred the Danbury location because it is about half-way. A couple of times we had the same server, a nurse who enjoyed hearing about our trips to see Aunt Elva. Sadly that location closed and we were not able to tell her she finally passed away.
We'll miss the stories. We'll miss the connection to the past, the present, and the future.
On this trip we only took one picture -- of us in a U-shaped bench at the Olmsted Park in Jamaica Plains. Taken to show Ashley it still exists.
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