As set out in my review of The Sixth Lamentation by William Brodrick, Agnes Embleton, born Aubert, considers how to die as motor neurone disease inexorably consumes her.
Her son, Freddie, does not want Agnes to suffer. He wants professional care for her.
Agnes is determined to die on her own terms. She will stay at home. She will draw on the assistance of government provided home care. She has asked a homeless woman, Wilma, that she befriended to live with her to help her through the nights. Family can help but she is not relying on them.
Lucy does not want her Gran to die. Agnes replies:
“I have to, Lucy. Death is like the past. We can’t change either of them. We have to make friends with them both.”
Agnes reminds me of Jenny, the disabled dancer with terminal bowel cancer in The Discourtesy of Death, a later Father Anselm mystery.
Jenny explains her embrace of her life:
‘Now? she replied. ‘I want my life. I was ready to die before but now I want my life. I know that in one way it’s broken, disappointing, limited, worthless, empty and insignificant … but it’s mine. It’s all I’ve got. I’m still me. And I know it will soon become messy and painful and frightening, but I still want it. I want to live what I’ve got … do you understand? It’s as valuable to me now as it ever was. I’m still … full of something … and it can be exhilarating, despairing, violent and peaceful - every state you can think of - and I just want to keep hold of it … for as long as possible.’
Jenny and Agnes are both determined that it is their life to live as they die. Neither will accelerate the end.
In posts on Louise Penny’s book, The Madness of Crowds, and my niece, Alanna, I wrote of my conviction that all lives have meaning. Because a person is dying does not diminish their dignity and the importance of their life.
Late in the book Agnes can no longer leave her bed. She cannot move her legs or arms. She can move her eyes. She studies her room until there is nothing left to learn. She can still use her mind. She lets her imagination take her into the air and she becomes a bird looking down upon the world. She goes back to WW II swooping into a collaborator’s office and diving through his iris into his brain.
As the end nears, Agnes communicates by pointing to the letters on an alphabet card. Every word is meaningful. The emotions are extraordinary.
Lucy tells Agnes of the trial evidence. Will she live long enough to hear the truths revealed in and out of court?
Brodrick’s powers of description are excellent:
She was fed by drip now, procured by Freddie when he insisted his mother would not die in a hospital bed, but in her home. Everyone diligently fussed over her needs, not realisng that Agnes didn’t care, knowing nothing of the carnival that raged out of sight.
As she lays in her bed going through her memories Agnes loves listening to her favourite piece of music, the powerful and poignant Romance sans paroles Op.17, No. 3 by Gabriel Fauré, which she played for decades on the piano.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plKLrnRcVwc&list=RDplKLrnRcVwc&start_radio=1
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