Everyone dies...eventually. I totally understand this. Having said that, the passing of my Grandma is still very hard for me. She had been a big part of my life since I was born. For 29 years I could hug her and tell her I loved her, call her to chat and hear her pearls of wisdom. She was not like other Grandmas in that she liked to swear like a sailor. (I say this affectionately) There is something oddly comforting about a 83 year old woman that likes to drop the F-bomb.
July 11th we were told that she had stage 4 lung cancer and a really awful case of Pneumonia. Up until that point she had been living independently and doing fine, other than her Dementia, but Zach and I were making sure she was alright, whatever she needed. She lived in a Seniors Apartment Complex here in North Bend for the past almost 8 years. She was tough and wasn't ever any more ill than a common cold. Due to the fact that she had been smoking since she was 13 (70+ years!) we were not surprised by the diagnosis.
I would like to think that I have an eternal perspective, well, more so than the rest of my family.
When we were told that she had weeks, maybe days to live, we all handled it differently. I remember nodding alot and blinking back tears trying to be a brave grown-up, when I would have liked be a sobbing 9 year old. My dad (this was his mother-in-law) wanted to talk about all the details of her life and make sure we all said what we had to say to her. I realize he was trying to be helpful, but at the time, it was a bit of Hallmark-ish overkill.
My mom didn't get emotional. (Surprise! Didn't see that coming at all) She wanted to be official about everything and she and Grandma would argue...alot. They are more alike than she will admit. I actually stopped wanting to be in the room when they started in. I didn't have the heart to listen to that anymore. My mom and I are very different. She holds it in and I let it show. I have no poker face and if I think it, more than likely it will come tumbling out of my mouth.
Pete and Zach were quiet about being sad. They rarely cried, although I know they were fighting to keep it inside. They would have to leave the room if the nurses need to move or check on Grandma. I love them. We couldn't keep eye contact or talk about it without crying.
With my schedule, sleep was the thing that I did away with. I wanted to be there as much as I could. I was a wreck. I kept my cell phone on vibrate while I was driving, freaked out that it would ring and be bad news.
Nicholas would lay with her and snuggle with her. She always called him, "that baby". One day he patted her arm and said, "Grandma, I hope you feel better soon." She nodded and said, "I hope so, too." I didn't want him to be afraid of the whole dying/death situation. The day she passed I told him about it and he told me that it was okay to be sad, but I should be happy because she was with Heavenly Father now. The simple logic and faith of a 3 year old.
Through the whole thing I feel bad for Mariah (Zach's wife). They got married in May and she is now a big part of the family. It was like, "Welcome! Hope you enjoyed the Honeymoon, here comes grief and pain for you to help your husband through. Good luck!" She has infinite patience, so Zach is lucky for that blessing.
The last time that I got to spend with her was the afternoon before she passed. We were alone in her room and I was leaning on her bed, holding her hand. She couldn't talk anymore but I could sense her responses. I was praying in my heart for the best thing to talk about. I didn't want to cry and go on about missing her, so I decided to bear her my testimony of a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior that would be the first one to greet her when her journey was over. I told her of family history, baptism for the dead and all the work I had put forth. I reminded her of all the loved ones that she would see. I told her that she deserved her place of rest and paradise. I told her that I must have been in the right line, because she was the best Grandma that I could've had. Then I started to sing some hymns to her. Although I could only remember the first verse of "God be with you until we meet again", I could tell she felt the Spirit. We cried together and I could feel that her time was at hand.
The next morning I was awoken at about quarter to 6 by the breeze from my window. I looked at the clock, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. At 6:30 my Mom called me and said that Grandma had passed about 45 minutes earlier. Later my brothers and I were stunned to all have felt that breeze at quarter to 6.
Death isn't hard, it isn't scary. The living make it difficult. I will take my heart filled with joy over a heart filled with sorrow. If I didn't have the knowledge of this Gospel and know that I had a wise Heavenly Father, I honestly don't know how many bottles I would have looked in to find that comfort and peace.
