Two weeks before Violet’s 103rd birthday in 2015, I came to the nursing home with my completed manuscript of her life, professionally edited and now ready for publication. I simply called it ‘Violet’. She was feeling elated and was very proud of my efforts. I felt like she had been talking a little slower than usual on the day but she was enthused with excitement clearly on her face and a sense of calm as she started to flip through the pages. The nurses told me that after I left she seemed to have amazing energy as she poured over the biography of her life. She managed to stay up till late to finish it within a day of receiving it. As she put it down on her bedside table, she took out her best writing paper which had orchids in the right hand side of the page and gold lines across, thanking me for doing such a monumental and beautiful job on writing her life story. She said she felt incredibly blessed to have known me and that she was so glad it was me who wrote her biography. She hoped that someone would draw inspiration from its pages.
I wondered if she knew it was her time, for she wrote me a note instead of expressing her gratitude and delight to me in person. I believe that thoughts of her young and old life consumed her after reading the manuscript of her life. On the following day, after she penned the letter to me, I liked to imagine that she looked out of her window and saw the sea and said, “Thank you to the Universe for all you have give me in this life.” As I know she did that every day.
The late October skies were extraordinary, great open, washed in colour, a greenish blue, and wonderful elevating shades of pink. The sea was glistening in the distance and the trees were in full bloom of white and pink blossoms. She lay there for hours in a daze of quiet pleasure, believing she had lived a very happy and fulfilling life. Without a sound, her head slumped forward and Violet Wockner died in peace.