Red Toenails

Aunt Becca with Gavin at our pool in May

Before September 29th came, I found myself at the hospital in San Francisco, sitting by Rebecca's bedside. I watched her with her beautiful hair and perfect eyebrows, as she slept, imagining what I would say when she woke up. Oh, the things I wanted to say. I ached with the burden of words left unsaid...the burden of knowing I felt like I should have called her that week, but didn't.

I remember thinking how surprised she would be when she woke at the many people waiting for her in the waiting room, the many people praying for her, people who didn't even know her. As each day progressed, riddled with more bad news, the thought became "if" she wakes up.

I remember wishing I could talk to her. Wishing I could let her know I was there, right there praying for her and holding on to her husband, my little brother, trying my best to support him. It is a helpless occupation, that watching and waiting. And I just kept thinking,

I want to do something for her.

Rewind to the morning I got the call from my brother. I was numb and in a literal, clinical state of shock. I remember not being able to pack, let alone put a sentence together or put one foot in front of the other. But, with the help of my helpmeet, I remembered to pack underwear and clothing and a toothbrush...and as I stood in my bathroom, staring at well, nothing,

I thought of my red nailpolish.

I opened my medicine cabinet and there it was, Raven Red. I stuffed it in my purse and off I went into a week that I will never forget.

So, there I stood by my sister-in-law. I turned to the nurse, Sue, and said,

"Would it be okay if I painted Becca's toenails?"

"Um, sure. Yeah, I think that would be fine."

"'Cause I know it has a lot of fumes, I just wondered if that would be okay in the ICU...a lot of nailpolish fumes..."

"Oh. No, I think that would be okay. Go right ahead."

I pulled out the nailpolish and painted her toes a deep, vibrant Raven Red. And I talked to her. I told her that the spa treatment and pampering by hospital staff was now going to be highlighted by fresh toes. I described the color and told her "this color is sooo you." I apologized because I didn't have any nailpolish remover for the specks of remaining sparkly blue the she had there before. I teased her that I knew she would not have been happy with unkempt toes in the hospital and so she could thank me later...

As I held her feet, I thought about the Savior, and when he washed the feet of his apostles. Though not a perfect comparison, it strengthened me to feel like I was doing something for her that she could not do for herself. If anything, it strengthened me to feel like I was offering my favorite color, something, anything, to her when she was almost untouchable.

When I went in to the waiting room and told my brother, he smiled and chuckled. He knew she would like Raven Red, too.

The next week, when I found myself in their home preparing for her funeral, I sighed as I looked around and saw the red accents--the pillows, tablecloth, candles...Yes, she would've like it, I thought.

I feel so overwhelmed by gratitude for the knowledge that we will see her again. So thankful that her children will see their mother again and life will go on again someday. We will look back and remember our time here and hopefully embrace and laugh about the red toenails.