Only The Publicity Is Transient

Katherine L. Sproles Lewis, age 46, died last Sunday.

She lived long enough to see her 17-year-old son Gearld “Tu” Lewis attend the Maryvale High School prom in Phoenix. She lived to see an article about him in the newspaper, to see TV trucks crowd the street outside her house, shining camera lights on Tu as he stepped out, illuminating the whole street like he was in the movies.

She was able to watch the news and see her son on television.

She was able to thank the people at Hospice of Arizona.

It was hospice workers who found a tuxedo that fit 6-foot, 10-inch, 300-pound Gearld. They solicited donations for prom tickets and flowers and a car and dinner for two. They even came up with spending money.

It happened after Paula Hunter of Hospice visited Katherine to talk about her final days. Katherine was dying of cancer. She knew it. She was resigned to it. During their conversation, she mentioned that cancer treatments had drained her family’s resources, and that there was no money left for Tu’s prom tickets or tuxedo.

So, hospice workers did what the family could not. They got Gearld everything he needed.

As the TV cameras photographed her son walking out the door, looking grand, tears came to Katherine Lewis’s eyes.

The next day, Gearld spent a long time reliving his Cinderella experience for his mother.

It was more important to her than it was to him. He wanted only to give his mother a gift, to give her something, anything. As it turned out, the best thing he could offer her was this small distraction. And so, on Saturday, that’s what he gave her.

On Sunday, Katherine died.

On Monday, the TV cameras were back.

They came to tell the story of a mother who was granted her dying wish. It was sad but uplifting.

And not at all true.

If Katherine Lewis actually had a dying wish, it would have been not to die.

She would have wished to see Tu and his 13-year-old sister, Kirsten, graduate from high school, then college. She would have wished to see grandchildren become grown-ups. She would have wished to live a long and healthy life, to grow old with her husband.

What she got instead was an opportunity to see Tu in a tuxedo, a brief, good thing at the end of a long, painful illness.

Her son is grateful for that much, as he should be. He’s also crushed and a little angry, as he should be.

“When everybody was paying attention to the prom, I was glad for my mom,” Tu said Wednesday. “But I never thought this would be the last thing in her life. People told me I should prepare for what happened. But I never once thought about my mom dying. I always held out hope. I always believed she’d be there for me. She always was … She still should be.”

For people in my business, the story of the woman with the dying wish died with the woman, even as the story of the woman’s family went on.

When the cameras were packed up and the lights turned off, however, the people from Hospice were still there.

They established a memorial fund in Katherine Lewis’ name at the Bank of America. Money collected will be used for her children’s education.

Hospice workers also helped make Katherine’s funeral arrangements.

“This mother’s biggest concerns were for her children,” the Hospice’s Paula Hunter said. “We’re just trying to make sure those concerns aren’t forgotten. That’s why the fund was established. We care for the dying, of course. That’s our job. But we also try to care for those left behind.”

It doesn’t matter who’s watching.

Or if anybody’s watching.

Last week, while cameras rolled, some really good people found Gearld “Tu” Lewis a tuxedo for the prom. This week, beyond the glare of bright lights, they found him a dark blue suit for a funeral. xxxx