Last week, my Grandma Anita, Dad's Mom, died. We drove down to Phoenix for her funeral this weekend. She had suffered three strokes over the past year and had gotten progressively worse.
Amanda and the kids and I drove down to see her at the hospice a week-and-a-half before. We were told she didn't have very long, and she was heavily sedated. I was succumbing to the flu, so I couldn't go up to her, hug her, hold her hand or anything. I stood on the other side of the room with a paper towel over my face and tried to come to grips with what I was feeling. She was only speaking in Spanish, and falling in and out of sleep. Grandma was always feisty and outspoken, and seeing her like that really tore me up. Amanda told me that while I was out of the room, and they were trying to understand her and communicate with her, Giselle and her cousin Atticus started naming off the Spanish words they knew. I guess they eventually ran out of colors and numbers, and so Giselle said 'espera', at which point, Grandma found a moment of lucidity, and reached out and hugged her. It fills my heart to know they were able to connect like that for one last time.
As bad off as she was, one thing hadn't changed, and that was her eyes. When she looked at me, they burned with as much intensity and heart as they always had. I felt that somewhere inside, she still recognized me.
We got there late, all the other other residents were trying to sleep, and I felt like I was too much of a liability, so we didn't stay long. Unfortunately, I didn't get better until the following weekend, by which time Amanda was sick. I kept hoping Grandma would be able to hold on just a little longer. But she couldn't. She died Tuesday, August 5th, with my Aunt Becky, Uncle Dicky and Aunt Rose, and my Dad and Stepmom by her side. I'm so glad they were there with her, it's hard to explain. I only hope that if it ever comes about that I know in advance that my time is up, my family can be there with me like that.
When I was a little kid, I guess about six or seven, and my other Grandma died, I was kept away from the room where her coffin was. I guess everybody felt I was too young to see such things. Somebody let me have a peek in the room, but that was it. I kind of felt like I got cheated out of seeing her that last time. And here I was about to do the same with our kids. I didn't think it through very much, I just figured it would just be easier if they weren't there for the viewing. Fortunately, Amanda snapped me out of it and suggested that we should just bring them. So we did. And I'm glad.
I don't think Harrison really knew what was going on, but he asked to be held up so he could see her. Giselle wrote a little note to put with her flowers, and told Amanda that she looked a lot better than she did at the hospice. I could see her crying, but she wasn't terrified or aghast. She held up a lot better than I did. It was the first opportunity I had to really appreciate that she was gone, and I was on the verge of open-mouth bawling. In the midst of that, I vaguely recall Giselle coming up to comfort me as I sat there with my head in my hands. God I love my kids.
With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say "Look! The tent of God is with mankind and he will reside with them, and they will be his peoples. And God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be any more. The former things have passed away." --Rev 21:3,4
From her point of view, I believe it's as though Grandma is already seeing that promise, and that is one of the things that helps brings me a happiness that will eventually bloom from the grief I feel right now.
Jeremy,
She sounds like a real gem, and the world needs more grandmas like that. You have my deepest sympathies. My hope for you, is that the pain will ebb, and be replaced with the warm memories you have of her.
Best wishes,
John
I'm sorry Jerey. What you wrote made me think of my own grandparents. I've not lost one yet, save for one who died before I was born. It reminded me because of that spark which some of our elders carry without ever loosing it, my own Grandma has it. I think I fear her loosing that much more than I fear loosing her.
Keep your head up. We both know you'll see her again.
Webster
Sorry to hear of your loss, JP. It is strange that no matter how much time you have to prepare for the loss of a loved one, it still kicks you in the belly just as hard.
As for the power of kids, I have to share:
We were loading our things frantically to drive to Colorado to see my brother "one last time" just about 2 weeks ago. Emma was loading all of her books and things into her little travel bag and she says to my wife, "I am bringing my cards to play with Uncle Zach." We both burst out in tears, but at the same exact time, we knew that he had touched that little life too. And that is all that we can do, right? Just love. BTW she did get to play cards with him before we had to leave.
Oh Jeremy,
I apologize, I am so self absorbed and forgetful sometimes. Amanda was muttering something about your grandmother dying and for some reason I zoned it out. It just now seemed to hit me like I am hearing you lost your grandma for the first time.
I understand though how you were feeling, as you know my Tata Sal died in April. I was given the blessing of being there with him, his last week of life. Boy, I miss him.
We will both get to see our beloved grandparent around the same time when they are brought back to us.
the Giselle in youtr story sounds exactly like me and my family when my grandma pass away 4 years ago. i just though it was ironic. two different girls with the same name going thought the same thing.