Margaret (2)

During one of my early visits to the Silver Spring, MD property where Ms. Jackson lived, I was walking down the street with the manager, Ginger, when I saw a woman in a colorful bathrobe gliding down the street, I write “gliding” because it wasn’t a walk and it wasn’t a skip and it didn’t seem she had a care in the world - nor did it seem she knew she was in the world for she didn’t appear to be overly concerned with her surroundings...after all...it was 2:13 P.M., the day was bright and warm, and she was outside in her bathrobe.

“Who is that?” I asked Ginger.

“Oh, that’s just Mrs. Jackson. That’s just the way she is. She doesn’t hurt anyone and she usually isn’t outside very long, and we keep an eye on her. She has a son who lives in Bethesda but he never comes to see her.” Bethesda was less than thirty minutes away.

Ginger continued, “She used to be a pretty important person in government.”

That was my introduction to Mrs. Jackson.

A couple of years later Mrs. Jackson was nowhere to be seen for a few days. When the staff opened her apartment door to check on her they found her lying on the floor under her bed, she had fallen...how she got under her bed we’ll never know; she was still alive, but she was bruised and dehydrated and disoriented. Mrs. Jackson never came home from her trip to the hospital; social services intervened, since her son would not participate in her care, and sent her to a nursing home.

I imagine Mrs. Jackson never thought she’d end up living by herself in our apartment community; never thought her son and his family would abandon her; never thought that the final chapter or two of her life would be as it was. On the walls of her apartment home were photos of her with President Herbert Hoover and other dignitaries - she had indeed been in the highest echelons of the United States Government. The well-dressed confident lady in those photos would likely have not envisioned herself walking down a street at 2:13 P.M. in her bathrobe.

Margaret, who had never heard of Cat Mountain before meeting Frank, moved to Cat Mountain with Frank and their children after receiving the diagnosis of cancer. Frank’s mother was a nurse and would be able to help Frank care for Margaret, Frank’s father was retired and would be able to help with the three children. While Frank would be able to do some telecommuting from their new home, most of his focus would be on Margaret; by the time Frank and Margaret moved to Cat Mountain her cancer treatments had run their course, palliative care was all that could be medically done.

A few weeks after Frank and Margaret moved to town our church launched the ALPHA Course. ALPHA is a course designed by an Anglican parish in the UK that introduces people to Jesus Christ. The format is an evening of dinner, a presentation, and then small group discussion. The community’s response to the course was wonderful and the first night we had a number of people from the broader community as well as people who were involved in our church. After the dinner and the presentation we split into small groups.

I introduced myself to the people who had been directed to my small group and then asked them to introduce themselves and share why they were there. Some were there because they had questions about God, others because a friend had invited them, others because while they didn’t believe in God they thought it won’t hurt to come. The mood was lighthearted and respectful. Margaret was the last to speak.

“Hi. I’m Margaret, I’m married with three small children and I’m dying of cancer and that’s why I’m here.”

This was the first time I, or anyone else in our group, met Margaret.