She was lying in her hospital bed (which was in her bedroom), somewhat unaware of what was actually taking place. She talked about all of the things she was going to do as soon as she "got better". The chores that needed to be done, the flowers that needed to be planted, the red truck that needed to be repaired. They were going to be taken care of "as soon as she got better".
I don't know how much she realized or how aware she was that cancer had completely taken over her body and that dementia was setting in, but she continued talking about what she was going to accomplish.
Sitting in the floor of her bedroom, a few days before her passing, I noticed a bottle of red nail polish. She never had much money, but she loved to feel pretty & "made-up". I wanted to DO something for her whether she would remember or not. So I unscrewed the top of the nail polish, pulled her boney hand to rest on my knee and started painting. As if it were a wonderful masterpiece, slowly&thoughtfully I would carefully stroke the red polish onto her fingernails. After I finished with both hands, I went over them again with a second coat.
Several days later, we stood beside her as she was being laid to rest. The flowers were beautiful, her hair and make-up made her frail body look so full of life.........but she wasn't.
With her body lowered into the ground, she took two things from me-her red fingernails and a piece of my heart.......