Grandma

by Stephanie F. Earls


It's the middle of the night, April 27th.  Just a little while ago at 11:11pm I noticed the time and told my parents, "make a wish." I decided to send my wish to Grandma, for her safe and comfy transition to heaven. Two minutes later the phone rang, it was my aunt letting my dad know that things looked imminent. He and Mom dressed and left and I've been sitting here on my bed not sure what to do, not able to sleep.

We sometimes joked about the handful of times she seemed to be dying only to defy the odds and keep going strong. But after six weeks of sleepiness and inconsistent appetite, somehow tonight seems different.

This week I have never seen a lovelier lady. Her light, strength and grace actually overwhelmed me when I was with her, to the point that I felt she was giving me much more comfort than I could ever give her.  Time became irrelevant. I sat with her, held her hands, offered prayers and love but felt so inadequate, almost insignificant in the face of death, and her strong spirit.  I felt enveloped by the love she radiated.   On the most subtle level, though sleepy and still, she seemed completely engaged in whatever process she was in, present for herself, present for me.

Earlier tonight when my dad came home he let me know she had not eaten in two days and we remarked, "it won't be long now." But my kids and I all thought she was probably trying to make it to her birthday (next week, 93). I think we all got the feeling at some points in her life that she was going to try to make it to 100.

Grandma, I don't know what to write or what to do. Tonight feels different and I think you are probably heading off now. I'm waiting for the phone to ring.  My kids are sleeping. I am with them and I am thinking of you. You have shown us a strength and a will to live that inspires me.  You have only headed off from this life on your terms. You have showed me what it means to truly live in the present moment with peace of mind.  These are gifts you've passed to all of us. And getting to be a generation removed from you, I have the added blessing of amazing aunts and uncles and a fantastic dad due in large part to you. As I sat with you this week I looked around the room, probably the most love filled room in the nursing home, and I thought how lucky I am to be a part of this family that you created. I hope you get to see Grampa. I hope whatever you are up to next is as beautiful as you are. I hope I can be like you, unwavering in the face of adversity, lovely beyond words.