Saying goodbye in a pandemic: Devoted son's 96-year-old mother dies after their summer of challenging visits

NEW BEDFORD — Bridget (Ledwell) Hargraves, an inspiring woman who went to college in her 50's and later taught religious education on a Native American reservation in South Dakota, died Wednesday at the age of 96.

She suffered from dementia and was a resident of the New Bedford Jewish Convalescent Home for more than a year, according to her son, Sean Hargraves, the 66-year-old executive director of the Dennison Memorial Community Center.

Hargraves said he had just returned home from his 15-minute, once-a-week visit to see his mother on Tuesday when he received an urgent call from the nursing home, saying she had taken a turn for the worse and he should return. He came back about 2:30 p.m. and stayed until 6 p.m., and although in a protective gown, mask and a shield, he was able to be in the same room with Bridget.

He and his partner of 36 years, Gina Ptaszenski, sat with Bridget, comforted her and he placed a set of rosary beads in his mother's hand. Bridget's eyes never opened. All their other visits had been outdoors or in separate rooms, six feet apart, no touching, no hugging.

"It was a very peaceful experience," Hargraves said.

He returned Wednesday and visited with his mother from about 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., and was planning to return later that day when he received a call saying she had died about 4 p.m.

Bridget lived an unconventional life. She went to the former Southeastern Massachusetts University, now UMass Dartmouth, at the age of 50 and earned her bachelor’s degree in 1975.

Right after graduation, she left to teach members of the Lakota Sioux Native American tribe at the Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, according to her son. She lived in a trailer on the reservation with two nuns, who were members of The Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (I.H.M.), a Catholic religious institute of sisters, founded in 1845 and based in Monroe, Michigan. She taught at the reservation for two years and then joined the order, but never took her final vows.

Before this week, Hargraves was only able to see Bridget once a week and sometimes two, if there was a cancellation or an opening. He never missed a week except when visits were cancelled because of last summer's extreme heat.

Sometimes his mother was lucid and other times she wasn't. Sometimes she didn't speak. Sometimes she just smiled. She was hard of hearing and Hargraves brought in "walkie-talkie" devices so she could hear him better and an aide was there to help.

He would sing "crazy songs" to her — "New York, New York," "Little Brown Jug," and "Over There (The Yanks Are Coming)."

"She would be singing it the rest of the day," Hargraves said of his mother.

When he could, Hargraves engaged other residents and it delighted him to see them smile back at him when he would wave. The experience had left him with a desire to return there periodically to see the residents.

"I would like to stay a part of it. I want to come there as a pet therapy dog. They come alive. I'm always ready to hug random strangers," he said.

If it wasn't for the pandemic, Hargraves would have gone to the convalescent home every day and stayed for at least an hour. "I love to go in there because my mother was so excited to see me," he said.

Hargraves said he is not complaining and he is happy with the time he spent with his mother, but the separation because of the pandemic was "overwhelming."

"The pandemic is all encompassing," he said. "It just makes a lonely existence for people who can't have visitors. We just have to wait it out."

When he would feel sad because he couldn't see her, he would force those thoughts from his mind and remember the fun times with her, speak with family members and celebrate her life.

"I was the happiest guy to get in there this week. I could have gone on a hug-a-thon," he said.

Peter Cote, an ordained deacon at Catholic Memorial Home, Fall River, said the impact of the pandemic on nursing home patients is "particularly cruel."

It is especially so for patients suffering from dementia and Alzheimer's disease because it creates "a heart-breaking distance" between them and their loved ones as the disease progresses, he said.

With the pandemic, the hardships are "exacerbated" by the protocols meant to protect them, he said. "They are the very ones who most rely on a gentle touch or a warm hand to clasp, a sincere smile when words fail, a peaceful voice and, of course, the close company of their families," he said.

"But we do not touch unless necessary, our smiles are hidden behind masks and shields, our voices are often muffled, and families must keep their physical distance behind barriers when regulations allow them to approach at all," he said.

Cote said he urges people in these situations to have hope. "I remind them of hope…hope beyond any difficulty, any darkness to befall us in this world. Have hope for the sake of modern science and the skill of healthcare workers, but especially have hope in God," he said.

Hargraves said his mother didn't want a funeral. She will be cremated on a date to be determined and her ashes will be tossed across the waters.

Her only wish was that it be at Gooseberry Neck in Westport.

"I'll go on a windy day and make sure the wind is going the right way and send her out there," he said.

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