|
|
Facts and Events
| Name[1] |
Murl Lee Henderson |
| Gender |
Male |
| Birth[1][4] |
11 Nov 1909 |
, Fillmore, Montgomery, IL, US |
| Marriage |
10 Jul 1933 |
, Peoria, Peoria, IL, USto Elva Winona Andrews |
| Death[2][5] |
19 Jan 1993 |
Crossroads Community Hospital, Mount Vernon, Jefferson, IL, US |
| Burial[3][6] |
Aft 19 Jan 1993 |
Mt. Vernon Memorial Gardens, Mount Vernon, Jefferson, IL, US |
| Reference Number? |
|
7 |
References
- ↑ 1.0 1.1 Murl Lee Henderson. Interviews with Murl Lee Henderson, Interviewer: Gregory Sean Lamberson. (1979).
- ↑ Gregory Sean Lamberson. Personal primary knowledge of Gregory Sean Lamberson, Interviewer: Gregory Sean Lamberson. (1979).
- ↑ Gregory Sean Lamberson. Personal primary knowledge of Gregory Sean Lamberson, Interviewer: Gregory Sean Lamberson. (1979)
All grandchildren were pallbearers, except Steve Lamberson, who did not arrive in time for the funeral, and John Michael Buford, who died shortly after birth.
- ↑ Born 3 months premature, without fingernails or eyelashes or any hair.
Mother took Murl to her parents' house for one month so they could help care for him.
- ↑ Grandpa had suffered congestive heart failure. He would not recover. He was on machines that breathed for him, and he could not talk, given the tube apparatus taped in his mouth. We stayed with him for 3 weeks like this, and all of our family was there at one time or another.
Grandpa had just undergone several months' worth of radiation treatment for throat cancer, riding to Centralia to the hospital there with Mom every week for treatment. He had just gotten better and was basically cured of his cancer, but then he got sick with pneumonia just after Christmastime.
When the choice became clear, they were putting him in a nursing home completely dependent on machines to keep him breathing, and turning off the machines. Grandpa made clear that he didn't want to live on machines. As the days went on, he became more and more unresponsive as he was resigned to his fate and the rest of us grappled with it.
Finally, as the debate brewed within the family, we understood that we would have to let him go and turn off the machines so that dear Grandpa could have peace and rest. We sat in a waiting room there in the hospital and discussed this. Grandma was beside herself, and so the children understood they would have to talk to their father about the situation. Yet none could. So I said that I would go and talk with Grandpa and tell him that we were ready to do what he wanted (which was to turn off the machines).
This was of course after a great debate with the doctors in the hospital, because in these days such decisions were very new and controversial. They told us finally that if we wished it, that they would turn off the machines if we talked to Grandpa and he agreed that this was what he wanted.
He was in intensive care this entire time, and we had been visiting him day and night periodically. As I mentioned earlier, he had become more unresponsive as time went on, since he was tired and we were not ready to let him go but he was ready to go. As I mentioned, I finally agreed to go in and talk to him, and Aunt Nona went with me to affirm and witness what I said to him. It was very upsetting and solemn, and it is oddly one of the proudest moments of my life.
Aunt Nona and I want in to Grandpa, and I told him that we were now ready to do what he wanted us to do. I told him that he needed to be very clear in his communication with us and the doctors about all of this, and I explained that we would uncharacteristically leave him in peace that night and the next morning, a doctor would come in and ask him if he wanted the machines turned off and he would have to answer clearly. As I explained this to him, I asked him several times if he understood, and he nondded emphatically YES each time. This was very different from his listless acknowledgements the times before. I was overcome with sadness yet very proud that I was able to speak to Grandpa about this in this critical time, with Aunt Nona there with me to support me. The time was also chosen so that it didn't conincide with Steve's birthday, which is Jan. 20.
The next morning, after Grandpa rested all night, the doctor came and talked to Grandpa. He confirmed to his satisfaction that grandpa wanted the machines turned off. So a timetable was established about when everything would take place. First we would say our goodbyes, then grandpa would be given morphine. He was put to sleep, and the machines were turned off gradually. Every hour or so the machines were turned down, until finally they were so low that he could not breathe and he died. I recall this being about 1:19 PM, but I might be wrong. As the machines were turned down and he died, we were all there aournd him weeping but glad he could face his end on his own terms.
- ↑ The funeral was 7 or 8 days after his death so we could get everyone there. All of us grandkids were the pallbearers. It was very special. The day was drizzly, and it was slightly muddy. Vicky lost her grip, and some of the funeral managers tried to dissuade her from rejoining the procession from the hearse to the gravesite. I yelled, "WHOA!," and the call was echoed by my brothers, sisters, and cousins. Our procession stopped, and we insisted that Vicky, the best of us all, rejoin us. When she was given a new place, we proceeded to carry our beloved Grandpa to his grave.
|
|
