Unfortunately, the experience with my Grandma T. prepared me for when my Grandma Pearce was very ill almost exactly 5 years later.  We had seen Grandma at my Uncle’s funeral in August of 2009 and then again about a week later on a planned trip to visit her at my Aunt’s in Ontario.  She seemed to be doing remarkably well for 95 ½.  She was falling asleep quite often and needed help walking but her mind was very sharp.  She handled her son’s passing quite well, I believe partly because she knew it wouldn’t be long before she saw him again.  Grandma and I had some good conversations over those few days; just simple things but so nice to just talk.  We peeled and cut up apples for apple crisp together, the first time we had ever cooked together.  I will hang onto that memory and the pictures.  After we left for home I told Pasith that I felt that she would be gone by summer, possibly by her birthday.  This may have been my last time seeing her.

Thanksgiving Day we got a call that Grandma wasn’t feeling well, not to be too concerned but just to be aware.  The next Saturday we got the call that she had gone into the hospital.  She was suffering from Congestive Heart Failure and they weren’t sure if she would make it past 2 weeks.  I lost it.  We had been through a year of cancer and death with Pasith’s Dad in May, and then my Uncle died in August and just as I felt I was getting back to life I was thrown to the ground again.  It wasn’t that I didn’t see it coming I just didn’t want to lose her.  We were just getting to know each other.  I had so much to ask her and tell her.  There was just so much unsaid and undone.  Could I live with what little had been between us?  What could I do now?  Time was up.  I wasn’t ready.  I came to the conclusion that I was giving in to the basic selfish human resistance to death and letting go and I didn’t care.

But as I had time to think I realized that this was not the end of me.  I would make it through.  She wasn’t gone yet, there was still time.  The quickest I could go see her was November 1^st.  So, again I would have to take the chance that my Grandma would make it till I could see her one more time.  This was a familiarly painful place to be.  Since we didn’t know how long it would be before we had to travel for a funeral I decided to take a friend with me on the 4 hour drive and leave Pasith and the kids at home.

I had tried to prepare something that I would say to Grandma when I got to her.  I had even written a letter that I could send just in case I couldn’t get there in time.  I was so worried that she didn’t know how I felt about her.  We had been separate for so many years.  I wanted her to know that I loved her.  That I had wished for something different, that I was sorry for all of her pain in life and to forgive me if I had added to it in any way.  In the days before I went and even while I was walking into her room I asked God to provide the words and the time if I was meant to have this conversation with her.  We had discussed quite a few of these issues over the last few years as we had gotten to know each other but it never feels enough.  I questioned whether she really knew.

Grandma was awake but not feeling very well and was kind of down.  The nurses brought her supper and my Aunt and I encouraged her to eat.  She just didn’t seem interested.  Then as we were all sitting quietly Grandma finally said that this was the day that Grandpa had died 30 years before.  She was thinking of her husband after all these years.  We were quiet and let her talk a little.  Then I decided to start asking questions.  It always worked with Grandma T.  If she was feeling down I would start to ask her about things from her childhood or just anything to get her mind off of what was upsetting her.  So, I asked Grandma how old she was when they came to Canada from England.  She didn’t understand at first why I was asking but she answered politely.  Then my Aunt and I kept the questions coming until she was telling us about her childhood without us even asking.  Before she knew it she had eaten all of her supper and was sitting up straight on the edge of the bed, her voice stronger and her eyes bright.  I was so happy to be a part of making her day a little brighter.  I guess God knew that this conversation was more important for us on that day.  And sometimes showing how you feel isn’t done in a prepared “speech” but in simple acts of kindness and caring.

I went back to the hospital in the morning before we left for home.  My cousin, who is a nurse, and my Uncle were there.  My cousin is about 8 years younger than me so I don’t know her well, but that weekend I saw that she was born to be a nurse.  She was so caring and wonderful for Grandma.  After the 4 of us talked for a while Grandma said she was getting tired and was ready to lie down.  So, my cousin helped her lay down and get comfortable; plumping pillows, arranging tubes and wires, checking her machines, teaching me how to safely help her get Grandma into the right position.  It was touching to see the youngest grandchild helping her Grandma in such a personal and compassionate way.  My cousin left the room and I stayed behind for a few minutes to say a private goodbye.  The Big Goodbye.  Again I was faced with the questions, what do you say?  How many hugs are enough?  How do I leave?  Have I done enough?  Am I sure she knows how I feel?   This time, Grandma was awake and lucid.  This Grandma wasn’t drugged and unaware.  She knew that I was leaving.   That didn’t make it any easier.  I still knew this was the last time I would see her.  We didn’t speak with words but we understood each other.  I will never forget the sadness in her eyes.  I hugged her as she lay in her hospital bed and held on to her hand as long as I could.  But finally I had to say goodbye.  I could barely get the words out.  And as I let go of her hand and turned to walk away everything in me was screaming to stay just another 5 minutes.  I barely made it down the short hallway and out the door.

Grandma Pearce passed away on February 12^th, 2009 peacefully in her sleep.

And again the family gathered for a funeral in the small Moosomin church.  I couldn’t help but look at the spot where my Grandma had sat in a wheelchair at my Uncle’s funeral just 6 months before.  This was a celebration of a woman who missed her 96^th birthday by one month; a woman who had seen so many changes in the world and so many tragedies.  It was time whether we wanted it to be or not.