The Sunshine Walked Beside Her

I had a couple of hours left in Minneapolis before catching a plane back to St. Louis. This was enough time to visit a friend, Barb Ivey, who had been admitted to the VA Hospital, which was conveniently located on my route to the airport.

Barb Ivey’s son worked for a while at Wells Fargo when I worked there. He introduced me to his mother,

She had once been married to a man who worked in a most exotic location: the television transmission station on top of the Empire State Building, making him the highest person in New York City. But divorce came, and she had the strength to raise her children by herself, and she wound up in Minneapolis.

She became my friend.  I was drawn to her because her smile and the twinkle in her eyes made it clear that she savored life.  Plus, it was fun to know someone from a different generation.  We tried out ethnic restaurants.  We went shopping.

Once, I had a visitor from The Bronx.  When Barb met him, she asked him what part of The Bronx he lived in. He said, “Not too far from the neighborhood that Jonathan Kozol writes about in his new book”.  Barb amazed the fellow by reaching in her purse and pulling out a copy of Jonathan Kozol’s book.  It was just like watching a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat.

The vast VA parking lot was jam-packed.  I magically found the one empty parking space left.  I took the space and walked into the lobby. “What room is Barb Ivey in?” The receptionist looked a little shaken by my request, checked her computer screen, and said “She was discharged yesterday.”

I went on to the airport, boarded my plane, and later received an email from Barb’s son telling me what had happened on the day before I went to the VA hospital.

Barb Ivey had made a decision to go off life support. Her family gathered around her hospital bed.  The email said that when she was taken off life support, it was a peaceful transition.

When I finished reading the email, a song came on the radio: Tecumseh Valley. One line in the song grabbed my attention: “The sunshine walked beside her”.

I wondered if this song was sent to me by Barb Ivey the magician, reassuring me that all was well after she had discharged herself from the hospital --- after she had discharged herself right off the planet.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com