Johnny Rustywire: Reaching for some things that are already there

There was a call. One of those you don’t like to hear. Ashie’s sister called him from Phoenix and said that their mother Nahgebah was in a bad way and that it looked like her time had come.

He left driving south to the big city and the Phoenix Indian Medical Center. Arriving there, he found they had taken his mother to a different place just a ways away to what they call a hospice. a place set aside for those who will soon be gone.

When he heard of this news he did not go alone but took his granddaughter with him as she had not seen her great grandmother Nahgebah for a long time. The girl could not remember Nahgebah since she had been nine years old and and had little memory of the last visit. So Ashie and his granddaughter went to this small place, a waiting room surrounded by a number of rooms for those people who were near the end.

It is a hard place to visit. It is quiet and clean and yet it is impersonal. And so far from home on the rez. When this time comes it should be in the quiet of one’s own place but Nahgebah was too old now to take care of herself and so Ashie’s sister had brought her to the big city.