Shirley Mae Gronquist Bostrom 4/25/1926-1/10/2011

Mom and Dad

My sisters and I knew my mother would pass away shortly after my father left this world. We all suspected that would be the scenario, and had speculated about it for the last few years of their lives, whenever the topic of "end of life planning" had come up.  When one goes the other will shortly follow. They had both been ill for many years, and we had watched them become more and more debilitated with Parkinson's Disease as time went on. It is inexplicable and tragic that they would both end up with the same illness.  They shared nearly everything, but why this?  When I first noticed my mother's hand tremors and suggested to her that it might be Parkinson's, she insisted that it couldn't be. "Your father has Parkinson's...that just wouldn't be fair". But that's what it was, and she was right.  It wasn't fair.
My parents met in high school, back in 1944.  Back then my Dad called Mom  "Shirt", his pet name for her instead of Shirley.  She called him Bud.  I don't think I ever heard her refer to him as Burdette. They were together for 67 years so it's no wonder that they died only a month apart, Dad on Dec. 9th and Mom today, Jan.10th, 2011.

I feel an exhausting mix of emotions: grief, relief, regret, and even an almost joy that they managed to nearly coincide their ETAs.  They very nearly arrived at the end of this life together - quite a feat for something none of us can control.  Or can we?  We've all heard the story before of the inseparable couples who die within months, weeks, or even days of each other.  Mom clearly could not go on without Dad.  She took her leave from reality on the day he died, insisting that he had gone down in a helicopter crash, and that she too had died the same day.  She thanked us for coming to her funeral and told us that she was so grateful that God had given her extra time to visit with us when she was already dead. Granted, she had been suffering from confusion that came and went for the last few years. At Dad's memorial service she looked straight at me and said she didn't know me.  I think my grieving for her really started then.  Over the next days she grew weaker and quieter and I think that she had already gone to some other place to be with Dad, and had to wait for her body to catch up with the process. I don't know if she knew that Ben and I were with her last evening.  We told her we were there.  We told her we loved her and that it was OK for her to close her eyes and rest. 
They both left this life in their sleep as we all hope to do. They both left knowing they were loved. They lived good lives and I am  proud of them both.

Mom and Dad 1944