So...I hate to be a downer, but I've got to write about this experience I'm going through.
I believe that nothing "grows you up" faster than giving birth with the exception of watching someone die.
My grandmother, Gracie, is in the "active death" part of her life. I have to tell you - I hate that term "actively dying".
I'll start by giving you a little history.
Gracie has had rheumatoid arthritis since 1970. She has been completely crippled by the disease. She's had multiple surgeries and cutting-edge joint replacement appliances put in her wrists and hands. She is an artist, and has amazed everyone with how her crippled hands can create such beauty. She has osteo-perosis and and steadily shrunk in size since I can remember. She has COPD. She smoked most of her adult life.
More than any of her illnesses though, she was a role model. A role model of how to be independent, of how to be a strong woman, of how to face adversity head-on, and on how to dream. Our family has a history of being matriarchal. She carried that torch successfully....we are all strong women.
She has lived with my mom and dad for over 4 years, and that entire time been under hospice care. Yes, I said 4 YEARS. While I'd love to say that the four years she was living with mom and dad was easy, I can't really lie. There was daily bickering - the food wasn't good, or people in the house were too loud - anything and everything. Mom and Gracie bickered all the time. Sometimes the negativity was hard to handle.
I never understood how mom could handle this. I was angry that she would handle it. I mean, sometimes it seemed as if Gracie had stolen my mom away from me. There wasn't enough of her to go around. She could take care of Gracie and that was all the energy she had. And, often, my sisters and I were over there giving mom a break. We took specific nights of the week - sometimes several nights a piece and that all took a toll on our families also. This past 4 years has been rough on all 16 of us (mom, dad, Gracie, the three of us girls and our families).
Mom could never put Gracie in a nursing home. Sometimes we blamed her. Once, we took her to a very nice nursing home in the morning and by 4:00 in the afternoon, we had picked her up and brought her back home. After being so strong and independent and nurturing us, we could not stomach the thought of her being alone in a nursing home.
And, here we are. She is dying. At mom and dads house. It has been such a long road. She is not in pain. She sleeps most of the time and her breaths are getting more shallow by the hour. My sisters and I are taking shifts to stay with mom and help make sure Gracie gets her medicine on time so she'll be comfortable. This is hard to watch. Hard. To. Watch.
I'm in charge of the after-death arrangements. Not sure how I got that job, but I will do whatever mom needs me to. I'll stay busy. I'll cry some when I'm alone. I'll give her pills or pain patches & turn her in bed. I'll sing hymns to her. Whatever helps mom or Gracie.
After all the struggle, after all the years, after all the arrangements, something occurred to me today. I was thinking about how beautiful it was when God blessed me with each of my boys. I remember each one of their first breaths, their first cries, and marveled at their perfection. I remember thanking God for the perfection he had trusted to me! It occurred to me that it's such a blessing to be a part of sending my Gracie to heaven, for a more-perfect-than-birth body. To be a part of ending someones struggle and knowing that they'll soon see the face of God. And, it helps me to think of death (just as birth) as being close to God. This time is precious.
I love her and will miss her.
At 35, I still hate these "growing up" lessons - just like I did at 5.
