Nancy

It's this time of year that I think about Nancy, my dad's 4th (and last!) wife. Nancy was a believer. She believed in my dad, in love, in his band, second chances, and luck. Maybe it was because my dad was more settled by the time he met her, but I always sensed a peace about him that I never had felt before, once they were a couple. They were together for just a few years before we got the bad news that he had lung cancer in 1994. The way they handled his illness was so graceful. Nancy managed to make us feel welcome and loved while we visited while at the same time, she protected my dad from becoming too tired or overwhelmed.

One thing sticks in my mind about this time. There was a goose couple that always visited Dad and Nancy's pond every year, and every year, they hatched a few goslings and hung around most of the summer while the goslings got big enough to fly away in time for the autumn. Well, that spring that my dad got sick, one of the goslings born that year had something wrong with it. I think one of its wings was deformed and it couldn't fly. Dad kept saying that someone should put it out of its misery because a fox was going to kill it anyway. I couldn't help thinking that he was relating to that little gosling. That fall, all the geese left except for the little lame gosling. Nancy kept an eye out for it, and always fed it some special food. Shortly after my dad died in December, the gosling disappeared. Nancy went out driving around looking for it, thinking he had found his way to another lake or pond but she never found him.

My dad died in his sleep in his bed, with Nancy beside him. She said she had sung him to sleep, and when she looked over at him, his hands were folded in prayer. I'm so glad that, although I wasn't able to be there, my daughter Phoebe was able to be there the night he passed away. We had a beautiful ceremony the next week, the Band playing outside despite the cold December weather. We all said something beautiful about my dad and laid white roses under the little Harry Lauder Walking Stick tree that he loved so much.

It took us all awhile to grieve. Dad was the first person I've ever lost; it hit me hard. I had a new little baby, and there was some post-partum stuff going on too. Nancy always stayed really close, making any excuse to come and visit, or inviting us up to visit her. It felt good to be back in the house, looking out at the pond, or visiting the little tree that my dad loved so much.

In 1997, we all took a trip together to the Yorkshire Dales, where my dad had spent most of his summers. I had visited there with him in 1985, and going back there felt like a reunion. Nancy, Matt, little 2-1/2 year old Willa and I visited all his favorite places; the pubs, the walks through the Dales, and we even went to hear one of his friend's brass bands play one evening.

That next spring, I got a call from Nancy that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Not just any breast cancer, but inflammatory breast cancer, a particularly virulent form of the disease. I couldn't believe it, but in some ways I could. A few nights later I had a dream where my dad appeared and told me that I had to help Nancy find her way. I didn't want to ask him the way to where --- I thought he must be asking me to help her find her way to him. But I didn't want to lose her! In May of 1998, just 4 years after my dad had been diagnosed, Willa and I went to Pittsburgh to take care of Nancy following her mastectomy. The next 2 years were a roller coaster: chemotherapy followed by weeks of illness, but then many good weeks as well. I remember Nancy, Willa and me going to Philadelphia to see Phoebe's dance performance at the University of the Arts. We all slept at Phoebe's apartment -- I still have the flip bed that she brought along to sleep on. She visited us often in York where we were living, going along to the playground to push Willa on the swings. I remember when her hair fell out, and how she hated wearing her wig-- she often just took it right off! Willa and I spent a wonderful Christmas with her in 1999. We went to see "Stuart Little" and had Chinese food on Christmas day....

Then all of a sudden, in April 2000, I didn't hear anything from her at all. I was busy as usual this time of year, preparing for the May Day Fairie Festival. And it wasn't unusual to go without hearing from Nancy - she was pretty busy herself. Despite fighting this awful cancer, she was still very involved with the River City Brass Band. But for some reason, at the close of the Festival that first Saturday in May, I decided to call my home's voice mail service before going home. There was a terrible message waiting for me (I can't even remember who it was from) that Nancy was in the hospital. We left right from the Festival and drove straight to Pittsburgh.

I ended up spending most of the month with Nancy -- first at the hospital as they tried to stabilize her, and then at her home. This time was so precious, I can't even describe it. First of all, I felt that I was making up for not being able to spend my dad's last days with him (Willa was born just 5 days before he died). Second, I wanted to give back to Nancy what she did for my dad when he was sick. But most of all, I just loved her so much. I tried to cook for her, took care of her birds, cleaned her house, paid her bills, fluffed her pillows, and read to her. I even wrote a little manual "Taking Care of Nancy" for the other care givers who would be coming at the end of the month when I had to leave for Matt's graduation and our move to Berkeley Springs. Willa was with me -- she would often just sit on the end of Nancy's bed, making her laugh. I remember being so proud of my little girl.

One afternoon just before I had to leave, a little fawn showed up in Nancy's backyard. He looked very lost, wandering around the house, poking in the garden that my dad had loved and cared for so much. He didn't seem afraid of us at all, just a bit confused and lonely.

I left Nancy in the care of some dear old friends while I went back to York to see my husband graduate from his residency, and pack up our house for our move to Berkeley Springs. On June 3, he graduated, and I left that afternoon to go back to Pittsburgh for a few days. I stopped at the Sheetz in Breezewood, got a sandwich, and decided to call Nancy's house to see how things were going. I got the news that she had died just a few hours ago. She had died as the hospice nurse was attempting to move her from her bed to a hospital bed they'd ordered so she could sit up and breath a bit better. This made sense to me - she had always told me that she wanted to die in that same bed that my dad had spent his last night in.

A week later, we had a beautiful memorial for Nancy. June 10 would've been Dad and Nancy's 10th anniversary. We drank a toast to the two of them.

I still can't help but think of my dad and Nancy when I see two geese together. Or when I see a fawn, I think of that little fawn in Nancy's yard. June 3 is coming up, and I usually try to plant something in honor of her. This year, I'm buying some native plants for my wildflower meadow. I know that she lives on in my love of flowers and plants (and my dad, as well).