Jenny's Farewell

‘I’ll have to go up and visit Jenny,’ I told my sister. ‘She’s been in a hospice for a while now and I haven’t been to see her since she moved there.’



Jenny had had several strokes which had left her with numerous serious health issues. Her best friend told me she had not long to live. It was hard to believe – bright little Jenny with her blond hair and impish jokes; all the fun we’d had together.



She was a sincere Christian too. With a childlike faith, she’d say, as we’d set out for a day at the beach under a grey cloudy sky, ‘Let’s just thank God for that patch of blue sky, Nettie.’ We did, and God swept the clouds away. Jen and I had many happy days out together, often characterised by our having to ask God to intervene and seeing Him move on our behalf. She was also part of our miracle-sparkling New Zealand holiday.





The thought had been nagging at my mind. I needed to see Jenny now. I’d put it off, as I was busy teaching speech and drama and running a prayer group. Not to mention writing, as always. And ‘life’.



But now it felt urgent.



My sister and I drove up and parked outside the hospice. ‘I’ll wait in the car so you can have some one-on-one time with her,’ Arlene said.

So in I went, greeted by the same smell as in Mum’s old people’s home. Even the entrance was redolent of meat and cabbage cooking, Johnson’s baby powder, and other worse smells.



A nurse led me through to Jenny. She lay there, looking as if she were asleep. The nurse assured me she wasn’t.



I chattered to Jen for ages. Reminded her of all our happy times together, even our time of sharing a rickety old flat. There was no response from Jenny. She seemed oblivious to my presence.



After I’d sat there talking or even praying for a while, I walked out and returned home.




     Jen and I picnicking

The next afternoon I had a rest. As I lay thinking, I found myself looking at an image in my mind of Jenny. She was walking away from me, along a narrow path. As I gazed, she turned around and waved to me, grinning happily.



The next day Jen’s best friend texted me to say, ‘So sorry to tell you, Jenny passed away today.’

I thought about that picture of her walking away, grinning as she waved. She’d been waving goodbye and her grin said, in true Jenny style, ‘I beat you here, Nettie. See you later.’

I was SO thankful I’d been to visit her a day or so ago.