Mother once said, "Isn't it a pity that just when one has learned to live, then he must die." She not only learned how to live, but also how to die. She had everything, even minute details, prepared and ready. Her Christmas packages and cards were all ready to go out. Her burial clothes together, she had even indicated some of the songs and speakers she would like at her services before being taken to the hospital in Safford with pneumonia in November of 1945.

At the October Conference she had visited all the far way children except Vernon, and she refused to die until he reached Thatcher. The sound of an airplane overhead brought her out of a coma, and after one disappointment she remarked, "Oh, how can I wait much longer!"

As her children arrived she had a cheery word for each one, and comforted Ivan when he couldn't hide his concern. Her visit with Vernon was beautiful and then the Doctor asked that we leave the room in order for her to rest. However, the nurse soon came seeking the son she had waited so long to see. Several of us hurried into the room and found her unable to use the oxygen supplied. She asked that we pray, so Vern, Ivan and Melvin administered to her. She seemed not to suffer then, and at the close of the prayer spoke a soft "Amen" and passed through the door into eternity, December 3, 1945.