Chapter 11
DURING these three weeks she spoke on one occasion of death because she seemed to be afraid of it. She had seen three patients die in her ward, and although they were screened off during their last moments the screen did not fully go round the bed, and above all, it did not cut out the rasping sound of the death rattle which went on for hours.
“They were moaning before they died, does that mean they were in pain?” I told her they were unconscious, and could not feel pain, and they did not know that they were moaning. I assured her that she would not feel anything when she was dying and that she would not even realise it. She often spoke of the next world, and she worried about where she would be buried. She didn't wish her relatives to get her body.
”They never cared for me, and if they bury me, they will never come to my grave often and talk to me. But when I am dead will you get me and bury me in Ballinrobe, and then you could come to my grave often and talk to me. The boys would also come because they were so good to me. You know," she added wistfully, "it's very lonely in the graveyard if nobody comes to you."
On another occasion after being silent and thoughtful for some time she laid her frail little hand in mine and said, with her usual serious look, ”When I am dead will you often talk to me, just like you used to talk to me here?”
I promised her that I would, if she would be listening, to which she replied: "I will. I will be always listening to you if you talk to me. And I don't mind dying if I know you will be often talking to me when I am gone.”
She liked to get presents, but I noticed she never cared much for anything special for herself, as compared with presents she could share with others. Stamps and sweets were her special preference. Whenever patients wrote a letter she was delighted to be able to supply a stamp. When she was up and about she often brought a sweet to a patient to see if it would stop the cough. And when she was confined to bed, she had the sweet sent up by another patient passing by.
I mentioned this to her one evening, and then I remarked, ”When you go to Heaven you will not have a moment's rest, you will be so busy helping people just like you always did here."
Her face lit up with pleasure as she replied, "That is what I would love to be doing, always helping people.”
“Suppose people ask you for something, would you mind going to God and asking for it?" I asked.
She thought for a little while before she replied, “I don't know, I am not sure until I go there. I might be afraid to go to God, but I know I would not be afraid of the Blessed Virgin, and that is what I will do. I would ask her and she would ask God. And I will always remember those who were good to me."
“What about those who did not know you were here and who would have helped you if they had known?" And then she made this extraordinary statement: "Anybody who will hear about me and who will like me, I will help them too. I will help them to be always good.”
