Vada May
1921–2015

Vada May and her husband, Jack, left so many legacies behind: scholarships, building funds, endowments, and volunteering for places like Seattle Prep (Catholic Jesuit school), Children’s Hospital and Mary’s Place, to name a few.

But, they also left behind the legacy of a mark or impression on others: business folks, educators, doctors, family members, friends, neighbors and…caregivers. The legacy of a life changed.

Vada May had unusual independence for her generation, quipped great witty one liners, knew how to put a stylish outfit together, all mixed in with plenty of spunk. She knew what she wanted, when she wanted it and exactly how far she wanted you to draw the curtains.

She was also passionate about giving. A letter would come in about Mary’s Place (a shelter for women). She would just hand it to me and name a big $ amount without blinking an eye. She loved her musicals, mystery books and splitting a Reuben sandwich with root beer with me at the Bay Cafe. In August she would start thinking about and planning her annual handmade Christmas card (since 1944!). One day, we were working on a design together and she was pushing for perfection. I said to her, “Vada May, you are driving me crazy!” She looked up at me and without missing a  beat, “Just wait. I can do better!”

• A few samples of wit and humor:
  • The paramedics came in to assess her medical issue. He said, “Does this happen more when you lay down?” She gave me a look, “Should I?” I nodded, “Go for it.” She corrected him, “It’s LIE down.”
  • “You going to wear your new PJ’s?” She answers, “My bed won’t recognize me!”
  • The night before a perm day. “I wish I would wake up and my hair would be all done!”
  • When she would make a mistake at a crossword and have to white-out a letter, I would hear her say, “Dummy, dumb-dumb.” “Vada May, why are you saying that? You’re NOT dumb!” “I like to say that. It reminds me that I’m not perfect.”
  • She would say after waking up from a nap, “I’m DYING of thirst!” She would take just ONE sip,  “Okay, that’s good.” I would tease her, “Here are the headlines in tomorrow’s paper: 93-year-old woman dies from dehydration. Caregiver gets 15–20 years.
  • Just before a shower: “Does the church have all the information about my funeral and where I’m supposed to be buried?” I answered, “Yes, they do. Are you worried that your shower might kill you?” ” Well, it might!”
  • Her most quoted line (from her mother) “You might not feel good, but you can always look good.”

Vada May was my client for over three years and I felt strongly committed to take care of her right the end. Caring for someone a few weeks before death was, surprisingly, one of the easiest things I have done. Once I got past the initial realization that this woman was going to be gone very soon, and let the grief flow in and out of me, I settled in. I felt honored to be there during her last week. Things become very quiet in that last week. I found myself wanting to just stay totally in the present, not projecting about anything post-death. Just sitting. In silence.

By knowing Vada May, I learned many things about her and in turn, about myself. Two things come to mind: passion and commitment. I learned that being passionate about life is a good way to live. When you do the things you want to do, have things the way you would like them, it brings deep satisfaction and contentment to your life. I also learned about perseverance and commitment.  When you think you can’t squeeze another drop of patience out of your body, you stay. And you reap the benefits by being there when it counts. You stay. You watch and sit and hold a hand when it’s needed for a little comfort.

A life ends, but another life has changed… forever.