Goodbye

Saturday September 29 2007

Slowly I followed my mom and dad past a white picked fence, down a winding sidewalk that led to the white hospice building. As I walked through the door the smell of antiseptic surrounded me…a smell I will forever relate with the death of my grandma. The main room looked warm and inviting with a kitchen and a family room with couches.

Hesitantly I entered my Grandma’s room Gone was the false sense of comfort and welcome, it was simply a hospital room; a place where my grandmother was sent to die. Her room was full of family and loved ones. With the blur of voices pulsing in my ears I raised my eyes to the bed where my Grandma lay. She looked so completely different then the Grandma I knew. She lay there lifeless, her vitality gone. I half expected her to open her eyes and say, “What are you kids doing? Get over her and give me a hug.” She didn’t.
My mom went to her side to hold her hand. “Would you like to hold her hand?”
I swallowed and simply shook my head. Suddenly I felt like I was suffocating, the smell of antiseptic choking me, and the crowed room compressing my lungs. I needed to breathe. I needed to get away from the ever-present knowledge of death.
My Mom and I walked into the hall and talked for a while. I couldn’t go back in the there…the room was too crowded…my fear of death to close.
“Mom, can we leave?” I asked.

Sunday October 30, 2007

Here I was again, walking past the white picked fence, down the winding sidewalk and into the antiseptic smelling hospice home. This time I felt more prepared as I entered my Grandmas room. Only a few people were there. She was breathing harder than the day before, her skin more translucent. After it was just my family in her room. We talked and reminisced. I found comfort in the simple conversation. Soon it was time to leave. I stood swallowed my fear and walked to her bed. For a few moments I simply looked at her. Then I leaned down and brushed my lips gently across her leathery cheek and smoothed my hand across her brow.
“I love you Grandma”, I whispered in my mind.

That night, October 30, 2007, my Grandma died and with her, Sunday evenings at Grandma’s, monthly newsletters telling us of her love and concern, traditional “Grandma lectures”, tacky Christmas presents, birthday cards with change in them, and the light of our family. But even though the world is a little darker, heaven is a little brighter. And there is peace in the knowledge that she is holding Grandpa’s hand once again.