The Cow Tail Switch is an African folktale my husband and I perform. My husband narrates the story with the Nigerian accent he has perfected for several stage roles. I pantomime the actions and invite audience participation. Nowadays our grandson comes along and plays the part of the youngest child.

In the story a father goes out on a hunt and does not return for months. In his absence his youngest child is born. More time passes and one day this youngest child asks "Where is my father?" This prompts his older brothers and sisters to look for him. They find his weapons and then his bones. Each child has special gifts. One by one they restore his blood, organs, muscles, skin, sight, breath, and movement. He rises and returns with his children to their village. There is a celebration in which he will present the honoring gift, a cow tail switch, to the child who did the most to bring him back. The children argue who deserves it.

He silences them all and gives it to the youngest child who remembered him. "A man is never dead until he is forgotten."

***

This is the second anniversary of the passing of my father, Arthur Henderson Nesbit. He died twenty-seven days after my mother, Janice Nesbit. I will not reveal her full name because she only divulged it when required by law. This is about them. I am the youngest child. It is my duty to remember.

***

My mother wanted to die with my father. Before they moved into the assisted living apartment in my city and six hours drive from the few friends left living, Mom expressed the wish they could die there. In their house. Together. 

One of my brothers lived in Oregon where assisted suicide was legal. She inquired during a family get together. My brother is a lawyer and began his lawyer-speak. I interrupted his discourse with a loud whisper in his ear, "She wants to commit suicide with Dad."  He looked shocked. Then flustered. He explained it was only for those in dire medical conditions. Mom's condition was dire to her. She didn't want to live without my father.

My mom's health was okay. She used a wheel chair due to joint deteriation but it was not life threatening. At her last doctor's appointment everything checked out fine. She was disappointed.  But Dad had chronic lymphatic leukemia and the mild chemo was no longer effective. He was on more aggressive treatments that caused embarrassing bathroom issues. He endured it for mom but he wasn't gracious about it. When I was alone with him I heard his complaints. When I was alone with my mother I heard her fears. 

My parents were honest to the extreme. Mom once headed back to the grocery store to return three cents. "Her register will come up short."  They followed the law. If the law allowed them to commit suicide they would have considered it. Since it didn't my mother chose a different route. She bombarded God with prayers to take her first. A month later she died "unexpected".

My father was devastated. He was angry she had prayed for something that hurt him deeper than anything he had ever known. As a man of science, he dismissed her prayer appeal as foolish. He didn't like to be wrong but it gave him a strategy. "If God answered her prayers, He damn well better answer mine". His first prayer was that my mother would come back. He didn't give that one up until she was buried. After that he prayed to die. But he handed me his car keys. If he got into an accident he didn't want me to wonder if it was suicide.

If he had taken his own life I would have understood. The pain of this was almost unbearable. But I'm grateful he didn't.  His last month will be with me forever. My "silent" father became talkative. We shared more than I ever imagined possible. I told him things I didn't think I could. He said things I never thought I would hear.

He felt my mother's presence the night before her funeral. That had helped him sleep for the first time since she died. I told him she "visited" us at the cabin the night she died. Her great grandson called out her name and smiled at the air.

He talked about how pretty mom was. I never heard him say that. I resemble her, so for the first time I knew he thought I was pretty too. He expressed gratitude. It was awkward at first. Then became natural. Every time I came and left he thanked me and said he could not have done this without me. As I got ready to leave one night he said he appreciated what I tried to do for him, but I should know this was something he would never get over. I nodded and hugged him good bye. It was the last conversation we had.

The next day Dad had a massive stroke. When I saw him in the emergency I knew we were headed for the end. The calls to my brothers affirmed our united resolve to do as he wanted. In the four days that followed, I stood vigilant for his wishes. We made him comfortable. No tube feeding. No oxygen. I wiped his mouth with a wet cloth and he seemed to want more. I poured a small amount of water in a glass and offered a drink.  He clamped his mouth shut. It was his last willful act.

He was conscious but unable to talk. My father was a man who was uncomfortable with praise and overt affection. I tortured him by sharing all the things I had longed to tell him. I told him I loved him and rattled off all my reasons. I looked into his eyes and thanked him for being my father.  

I love the astounding beauty of life and death…the intense joys and sorrows. I was there for the birth of my first grandchild. There was an entourage to welcome him.  But he knew nothing of what was to come and if given a choice he would have stayed in the womb. He departed that dark, warm place to come here and was greeted with bright lights, shouts, tears and laughter. No wonder he cried upon entry.

A few months later I was there when my seventeen year old nephew was taken off life support after a brain stem injury. The doctors warned he would likely live for months. He was strong. They said people always fight death. Family and friends held on to each other around his bed and said prayers. We each said good bye. His mother and father kissed him and said it was okay for him to go. And he went. Immediately. It surprised the medical staff, but not us. He was ready for the next adventure. You could almost hear the spirits greet him.

My parents passed on with clean records. With the exception of a speeding ticket my mother received (and never lived down) they did not break any laws.

They just asked to die and Someone said "Yes".