I was called that Saturday evening by the hospice nurse that Sheri had taken a big turn for the worst and was not expected to live through the weekend. I went over to Casa de Rosa that Sunday and spent about 4 hours hanging out in her room while she quietly lay dying. I spoke to her about lots of things including remembrances and short term expectations. She was basically unresponsive, so I don't know if she heard me or not. Maybe. Once in a while her eyes would partially open, but I don't think she could focus.
And just like that, she shuffled off.
And now, I'm the last one left that originally lived at 7621 Winter Ave.
It's hit me pretty hard that all are now gone. I'm surprised at that, as stated in previous posts, I wasn't particularly close to Sheri. More than anything her death represents yet another example of our mortality.
RIP Sheri. You had a very hard life. Your mental illness led you into the dark depths of addiction and left you sick and weak. I am and will be forever grateful that there was a social safety net that allowed you receive the care you needed for the last few years of your life. Not everyone gets that, even though all of us deserve it.
Onward.
