Doral Adored Wyora

L to R: Arta (27)), Bonnie (24), Wyora (54), Wyona (22), Darla (17), Moiya (15)

This picture was taken 10 days before she died.

My dad adored my mother.

He never came into the house but that he didn’t go find her and put his arms around her.

"Where's Wyora," is what he would call out upon opening the front door.

When she was in her early 50’s she found a lump in her breast, had a mastectomy, but too late, and the cancer eventually spread to her liver.

She didn’t want to die in a hospital so Doral had a hospital bed set up by the large living room window that had a view westward of the Rocky Mountains. She laid in that bed during the day. Wyora was well loved by others; people knew she was dyin and so the house was always full of visitors.

She slept in her own bedroom at night.

One day, because her temperature had dropped; a doctor came on a house call. The doctor told Doral that her death was approaching and she should go to the hospital.

“Is there anything you can do for her there, that I can’t do for her here?” Doral asked.

“No,” said the Doctor.

“Then we will just let things be,” said Doral.

Night deepened. Wyora fell into a coma. Doral left the room and had a bath. Then he put on his white shirt, his best tie, his Sunday suit, and his always polished brogue shoes and he laid on the bed beside her, holding hand until morning when she passed away.

She was 54 years old.

My dad loved my mother. He went on to parent their 17, 15, 13 and 12 year olds still at home.

He always said, "I am so glad Wyora died first. I would not have wanted her to feel this loneliness.”

Arta

 (My story about my dad, told June 21, 2020 at Zoom Church with the Jarvis Family in Montreal, and the Jarvis Family in Edmonton)