Bushmills

At the rehab class, Dick had taken Beverly under his wing. Her husband died a year ago while he was going onto a major bridge. As the lanes converged, he said, “Oh, shit!” then died of a massive heart attack. She was in deep grief.

This year, her son was found dead in his bed. She did not come to rehab for a while but when she finally came back, Dick was ready. He had printed out funny things from the Internet, though most were a bit naughty. She began to giggle. It was a marvelous sound.

Since then, he would prepare a small packet for her to get her laughing before class. They were talking alcohol one day and she mentioned that she liked a little Bushmills once in awhile.

That was all Dick needed to hear. Before Christmas, he bought a bottle of Bushmills and a card. He signed our names to the card and he was ready. Beverly didn’t show up.

I was assigned to bring the bottle home and back again the following Tuesday. She didn’t come to rehab. I handed it off to Sherman to give to her on Thursday as I had a dentist appointment.

She didn’t come, much to Sherman’s relief.

Sherman handed it off to Dick the following class. She still had not come back to rehab.

The RN at the rehab class told us yesterday that Beverly has just passed away.

Rest in Peace my friend.