ACROSS THE LINES - Archive (2006-2020)

Terry Schiavo died one year ago this Friday, thirteen days after the removal of the feeding tube that had sustained her since 1990 in what her doctors diagnosed as a “persistent vegetative state.” As all but the most media-averse will remember, Schiavo’s husband, Mark, and her parents, Bob and Mary Schindler, disagreed bitterly about removing the feeding tube. Their dispute – which had been played out in the Florida legal system for over a decade – exploded in the court of public opinion last spring, when finally the Schindlers’ appeals were exhausted, and Mark Schiavo was granted legal authority to order the tube removed. The plight of Terry Schiavo and her family sent shivers of recognition across America – almost everyone could imagine their own family torn over what to do if a young loved one were cut down by illness or accident before having spelled out explicit end-of-life instructions. Schiavo’s tragedy also captured the public imagination because her family’s differences

Based on the eulogy I delivered at the funeral of my grandmother, Marian Smith, in March, 2006. I dedicated my first book, Mrs. Hunter's Happy Death, to my grandmother. She died the day before it first appeared in bookstores. This is a tale of three books, the first being the spiral-bound Spiderman notebook that belongs to Jacob, my four year-old son. The night before I left town to go to my grandmother’s funeral, I grabbed the notebook and a pencil as Jacob climbed into his bed, and I asked him if he wanted to write a note to his great-grandmother, whom he has always called “Gigi.” Jacob thought for just a minute, then motioned for me to bend over so he could whisper in my ear. “I love you,” he said. “I miss you. I want to visit with you in heaven.” Jacob giggled and sat up straight in his bed as I read his words back to him. Then, with a curious smile and a nod of his head, he said to me confidently, almost smugly, “You show her that. I think she will like what I wrote.”