Death comes in many forms; fast, slow and everything in between.   Contrary to popular belief one is not easier or better than the other for the loved ones left behind.  Yes, if the person has a lengthy illness there is more time for us to fulfill our selfish need to make sure that everything is said and the person can move on with our emotions in a nice, neat package.  There is no nice, neat package.  It may feel that way at the time but after a day, week or month the emotions come back and we find ourselves wishing for more.  More time.

When someone dies they are gone no matter the reason.  When that first family event or holiday comes around do you care why or how the person died or do you just wish they could be there to share it with you?  Do you say, “Well, we had a great year with that person while they suffered and lost their life and dignity slowly and painfully.  Pass the potatoes.”?

Life moving on without someone that we love is painful whether it was a sudden accident, murder or an illness that took them slowly.

I had not experienced an “illness” death that was close to me as an adult until Grandma T.  She was a guiding force in my life.  Grandma gave advice whether you wanted it or not.  She knew what you were up to – especially if you didn’t want her to.  When she broke her leg by making a misstep on a staircase my whole life stopped, along with other members of the family.  She was like a mother to me; she had taken care of me as an infant.  She and I were very close.  I was her “Little Lamb”; the only person in her life to have a nickname.   I had known that at 89 her time was coming but again, knowing doesn’t matter when it actually comes.

She was in the hospital on high doses of morphine after surgery.  I fought to get to her 2 ½ hours away.  Money was tight; I was working a lot of hours while Pasith finished up school and worked.  Sidney was 4 years old and so it all complicated my getting to her side.  I prayed that she would make it till I could get to her.  I just needed to see her one more time.  Just needed to see it for myself; this woman that I loved so much and who had always been such a rock taken down by a broken leg.

When I went in to her room at the hospital she looked so small.  My Aunt was there – she was always there.  She is an angel in our family.  My Grandma had been asking for her children and grandchildren.  It is a wonderful feeling to be thought of by someone at a time like that and yet heartbreaking.  When she saw me I went to her side and she grabbed my hand – it was so warm.  She started to cry and said, “My Little Lamb”.  I had never seen her cry.  She knew me even through the drugs.  I didn’t know what to expect because she had become quite angry at times through her drugged state, which was not part of who she was at all.  But she hung on to my hand and pulled me in for a hug.  Grandma wasn’t normally a very physically affectionate person; I was so thankful for that change among many other painful changes.  I needed to feel her.  We chatted a little but she was in and out of coherent conversation.  She was hearing music and sermons and would tell you what they were about – after she got annoyed that you weren’t listening.  She had cats that would visit – in addition to the family dog.  Grandma would request that the music be turned down on the radio that only she could hear and would get very agitated when you didn’t comply.  There were little men making fires in the corners of her room.  It was difficult but we were able to find some humor in the midst of the heartbreak.

My Mom and I stayed at my Aunt’s and went back in the morning prior to leaving for home.  That next day was one of the most difficult in my life.  Everything was fine until we had to leave.  We had become accustomed to the ramblings and the momentary agitation, waiting for the moments of clarity to come back.  She had a wonderful phone conversation with my Uncle about deer hunting.  She was so excited to hear about the deer he had just shot.  How big is it?  Was it a buck?  How many points if it was a buck?  Asking for every detail of how it happened.   When was he coming to see her again?  And once she was off the phone she was like a little kid telling us all about the deer.  Then the clarity was gone again.

I hoped that this would not be the end but I knew it was the last time I would see her.  I would have to say that is the worst kind of dread you can have.  When do you walk away?  When and how do you say goodbye the last time?  How many hugs do you have to give before you have had enough to be able to walk out of the room?  How many times do you have to say “I love you” before you are ready to leave?  I will have those last moments in my mind for the rest of my life.  Did I say enough?  Did I do enough?  Why didn’t I just stay?  Did I really have to leave?  Was my job and life at home more important than the last moments with this woman who had cared for me as an infant and had helped raise me?  I so wanted to stay.

When I finally did leave the room she was still talking.  I’m not sure if she was talking to me or herself because she had slipped into the drugs again.  But, the horror of leaving while she was mumbling alone in a room is indescribable.   How do you just walk away?  How do you let go of their hand?   But I was reassured from my Aunt that it was ok to leave.  I am so thankful for the good memories that I have of her to counter what that visit was like.  I don’t know how my Aunt did it for a month; seeing her, feeding her, caring for her, taking harsh words from the “drugged” person that temporarily took over her Mother’s body without notice.

Grandma passed away peacefully in her sleep on November 25^th, 2003.

I don’t remember sunlight during the month between her breaking her leg and her passing.  All I remember is darkness.  I had horrible nightmares during that month and for about 6 months after.  Because she passed away in November in northern Minnesota the funeral home wouldn’t bury her till spring.  For some reason I could not come out of the deep grief until she was buried.  It was just like I went through her dying over and over for months.   I would dream that she was still alive and then would suddenly realize that she had really died.  Sometimes she would also realize it in the dream and sometimes I had to wake up to realize it.  Those months were very difficult and I was so thankful when the nightmares ended after she was buried in May of 2004.  I have no regrets about that final visit, except that I couldn’t stay longer or go more often.  The nightmares in the subsequent months pale in comparison to the incredible influence she had in my life.  I treasure every minute with her.