Grandma's Last Days

The call came this past Saturday evening. Shortly after, my mom could barely relay the message to me that my grandma was in her last days. She had quit eating and was now nonresponsive. It’s been a slow decline over several years and the call was simply a matter of time, but it was still hard watching my mom handle the initial rush of emotion that was only to be expected in this next step. I have never been an emotional person, so I always just try my best to be a supportive person.

I did have a short moment of emotion. My breakdown happened at two in the morning and kind of surprised me as I laid in bed thinking about my grandma and memories. It’s so dumb, but it hit me that I was about to be the only redhead left in the family. How embarrassing to even post this. I think it was just something to do with the fact that it one thing I have from her that nobody else in this large family does. My breakdown lasted all of an approximate thirty seconds before I realized how ridiculous I was alone in my dark room at such a crazy hour. The best and most standout memory of my grandma, that I only can strive to make part of my own character, has been her overall closeness to God. When I think of her I picture her going throughout her daily happenings and humming different hymns that she cherished. It was something as natural to her as breathing.

The day after the call I made the trip with my mom across Florida and by Sunday afternoon we were at my grandma’s bedside at the assisted living facility in Clearwater. These last few days have been filled with obligations of preparatory work and with time in my grandma’s room. Not too many changes yet, just small evidences of decline. The hospice care just continues to remind us it can continue slowly or turn downward at any moment. Every person is different.

My mom has seemed okay for the most part. It’s good there are things to take care of. We were cleaning her things from her room yesterday with my cousin and so much of it was covered with dust. Out of nowhere the one sudden movement from my grandma was a loud sneeze. It made us laugh.

Today the worker from hospice told me the picture of my grandpa as a young soldier immediately made her think of me, because she noted where I had gotten my big brown eyes from. It meant so much because I was grandpa’s girl until the day he died years ago. I admire him so much and nobody has really told me that before. There have been times I’ve wished my eyes weren’t so big, but never again!

My mom and I decided we needed to put some music on for her today since hospice tells us she can still hear. Of course her choice would be hymns, but as I searched on her old radio I told her she was going have to settle with contemporary Christian. Shortly after my mom came back in Mercy Me’s “I Can Only Imagine” came on. (I believe it’s a great song, but the overplaying of it and its overkill in churches annoys me.) However, suddenly as the hospice worker excused herself and my mom found her place at her mom’s side the song became ours in that moment. I glanced out that window and saw cars pass by as everyone went about their lives as we all do. My eyes moved back to our quiet room. Her hours are dwindling in this world, but I am excited that what our earthly minds can only imagine she is about to realize.

My sister made it in tonight after her determined drive from Virginia. Everyone that is going to try to see her one last time has been here. We now wait for God’s time.

She’s my last grandparent and I grew up with her always being nearby, but I’m ready for God to have her with Him now.