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Audrey Elliott
January 4, 1932 - January 16, 2014
The family of Audrey Doris Elliott would like to share the news of her passing. After a long battle with Alzheimer’s disease Audrey closed her eyes for the last time on January 16, 2014 just days after her 82nd birthday. She was surrounded by her family who had held a close vigil for the final days of her life. She is survived by her long time best friend and husband of 56 years, Bill, who never missed a day visiting her at Maitland Manor where she had been a resident for the last six years. Audrey will be deeply missed by her children, Mary Lou Elliott (John) of Goderich, Bob Elliott of Wawa, Heidi Elliott of Goderich, and David Elliott of London. Grandchildren Aubrey Schaus of Vancouver, April Schaus (Jay) of Goderich, and Zach Schaus of Toronto will miss their Grandmother and remember all of the good times spent with her. Audrey was a wonderfully kind and generous person who shared her talents of knitting, sewing and crafts with many friends and relatives. The family would like to extend their heartfelt thanks to the staff and residents of Maitland Manor who loved Audrey and shared her last days. Cremation to take place in keeping with Audrey’s wishes, and the family will hold a private visitation. Any expressions of sympathy in the form of donations to the Alzheimer’s society would be greatly appreciated. Arrangements entrusted to McCallum & Palla Funeral Home, Goderich. Friends may sign the book of condolences at www.mccallumpalla.ca
Marjorie in March
(thinking of Audrey Elliott)
From her nest she watches clouds
hasten in across the lake, the town,
the parking lot, the visitors’ afternoon cars.
Marjorie on second floor-palliative,
thin, mottled hands fluttering
against sterile sheets.
Marjorie a puppet: lines attached
to limbs and body
draining, feeding,
digitizing her condition.
She is content:
nurses respectful as grown daughters,
Dr. Sharma and her acolytes
professionally, coolly concerned.
Marjorie accepts
whatever the bright day on the dim ward
may bring.
But she grieves for this:
once more on this March afternoon
breathing deeply into sheets
pulled in with strong arms from the line,
deeply into aprons, faded overalls, diapers, shirts –
deeply, while the clouds ride high
above her on the stoop
and at her feet the rhubarb magically overnight,
clenched green-red fists unfurling out of the dark soil,
and daffodils, their showy trumpets blaring yellow –
deeply, when only nightfall marked
the unforeseen, mad passage of time.