Today marks three months since I watched my beloved grandmother breathe her last. Three months since she said she loved me for the very last time. Three months since one of the longest, yet shortest days of my life.
I had no idea when I got off work the day before and started heading over to her apartment because she wasn't feeling well that I would be saying goodbye just over 24 hours later. Rushing over to be with her, I knew she wasn't doing well and it could be the beginning of her final days, but it was so sudden.
I remember walking into her room around 3 p.m. and seeing her on her chair, feeling miserable. When I asked her if I could give her a hug she weakly said, "I'll always take a hug." I gave her a hug and quickly sat on the floor beside her and held her hand. After the CNA walked out to make some calls, I asked Grandma if I could pray for her and she said, "of course," and I prayed for her comfort and peace, and, if the Lord willed, her healing. Ultimately, Grandma and I both knew she was in the Lord's hands and these could be her last days.
Soon my dad arrived from work, and he and I sat with Grandma, trying to make her more comfortable before the paramedics arrived. We weren't sure if she was having a heart attack or simply feeling ill.
After the paramedics came, my dad and I, driving separate cars, drove to the hospital. It was pouring rain and the traffic was not the best.
Dad and I rushed into the emergency room where one of the paramedics was waiting to lead us back to Grandma. It felt like a scene in a movie: People were buzzing around Grandma, hooking her up to tubes and checking her over, asking us questions about her medical history, age, if she had an advance directive, and who had power of attorney.
My mom and aunt arrived, and the ER staff broke the rules and said that more than two people could be in the room with Grandma at a time, and we all stood around Grandma, speaking words of love, praying, and simply reflecting. Hospital staff were in and out for about an hour, giving Grandma painkillers and asking Mom, my aunt, and Dad questions about treatment options. After several hours of waiting, the hospital had a bed open so Grandma could be moved to a room.
Family members were updated and on the way. Around 9 p.m. I headed for home so I could be with mini-man (9) who was sick so everyone else could be at the hospital. Mini-man and I watched "The Emperor's New Groove" and went to bed.
The next day was a haze. Mom and Dad stayed the night, I got there around 8:30 the next morning, and my aunt and uncle came by as well. Other family members were there also. Grandma was in an almost comatose state, but managed to tell each of us she loved us. When the Squish came, she said, "I love you, Great-Grandma," to which Grandma mumbled, "I love you too." Those were her very last words. Grandma soon went into a sort of coma.
We all spent the day in the hospital, doing homework, playing games, and spending time together.
At 5:45 p.m., everyone but Mom, Dad, and I headed home. I was thinking about leaving, but decided to stay a bit longer. At 6:20, the nurse said it wouldn't be long, and we gathered around Grandma, telling her we loved her. And then she was gone. It was almost like I could sense that her spirit had left her body. Grandma wasn't in the room any more. I pray she went to be with Jesus.
Three months later, memory of those days is still vivid and the pain is still sharp. But we know that the Lord, the perfect Creator of the heavens, the earth, and life itself, is sovereign over every situation. We thank the Lord for the time we had with Grandma and for the blessing she was in our lives.
Hold fast to Jesus!
Sonia
Hold fast to Jesus!
Sonia
