Dawn's Notes
Speak Their Name - May 2025
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
I will never forget June 23rd many years ago. That is the day my husband Ralph was diagnosed with kidney cancer. Our doctor came into his hospital room and spoke frankly to both of us about the results of his CT scan. The doctor stated, "You have a little diverticulitis, but that is the least of your worries. I am 99% sure that you have a big cancer setting there. When he told us, we felt like we had been kicked in the stomach and that the air was knocked out of us. Then the doctor said, "Come on, Dawn." I followed him down the hall to the radiology department where he put on the CT scan film and showed me an enormous mass in my husband's abdomen. Maybe he wanted me to know the reality of what we were facing.
After going back to my husband's hospital room, he and I talked. One of the things that I remember him saying is, "I am afraid the grandchildren will not remember me"—he wanted them to know who he was. In July he had the cancer surgically removed, but it returned. Even though there were no more medical options, we were blessed with the gift of more time, and two more grandchildren were born. The two oldest grandkids do still remember him. Shortly before my husband died, he again verbalized his desire to be remembered. He said to me, "Dolly, remember me when you see the sun set." I replied, "How could I ever forget you? I will never forget you."
Throughout our marriage, both of us made slides of the glorious Kansas sunsets. So, sunsets were frequent connections between us when he was alive, and even now sunsets remind me of him. He also told me, "You've got to write the story." He meant the story of his life to pass down to the grandchildren. I promised him I would, and I continue to write and talk about him.
There are so many memories—when we dated, the “hungry years” as described by Howard Greenfield’s song, when “we hardly had a dime.” When our children were born, and our later years when he sang John Denver's "Hey, it's good to be back home again" to each grandchild to get them to sleep.
I remember the holiday cookouts with family in the pasture where he was the chef! I remember how he looked forward to the first frost, when the geese could be heard flying overhead, “honking” their way south, confirming that winter that he loved so much was on the way! I remember the “final days” as we call them before he went “home.” And since his death, I have been privileged to watch our grandchildren grow up, and I have wished he could have too. And we remember him through photos, stories, and songs that he loved. If someone you love has “gone on before,” perhaps you are holding on to memories of them as you gently let go and move toward a different life. Regardless of where our paths may lead, our loved ones will always be a part of us. So, don’t let the memories die.
Several poems entitled “Speak Their Name” have been written, reminding us to keep the memories of our loved alive. And Dr. David M. Eagleman, a neuro scientist and author said, “They say no one truly dies until their name is spoken for the last time.” On Memorial Day we remember those we love with flowers and ceremonies. But throughout the year, we can keep their memory alive as we speak their name.
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator