She Waited For Me… | A VERY personal post. As I sit here typing this out, my bottom lip is weak and my chin is slightly shivering. It was two weeks ago today that my Grandmother suffered a stroke and was admitted into the ICU at the hospital. It was two weeks ago today that a part of my heart would start to make its exit, stage left. It was two weeks ago that I was already in bed and asleep while my Grandmother was being poked and proded by doctors and nurses, and I didn’t have the slightest clue.
It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon. I had just sat down at a picnic table about to enjoy my lunch with a friend when I noticed my Mom & Dad had called…from the house phone…and that can only mean one thing. I knew something wasn’t right so I called right away. When my ears heard my Dad’s voice on the other end of the phone, my heart sank immediately. My ears started ringing as my Dad was explaining that my Grandma had suffered a stroke and it didn’t look good. I think he used the word “massive” at least a half a dozen times during our seven minute phone call.
I hurriedly took a few bites as I knew that I wouldn’t be eating much in the hours and days to come. I managed to take about four bites before I wrapped up my most delicious Jimmy Johns sandwich and headed back to work. I knew that I couldn’t be of any help…but my heart NEEDED to be with my Grandma. And so, I talked with my supervisor, went home and nursed the baby, and headed towards the hospital with my husband. On my way I received a phone call from my Mom… She gave me some hope… She explained that Grandma would need to move to a skilled nursing home and would not be able to get around without assistance. For a few minutes, I felt a little at ease.
When I saw my Grandma, laying in that hospital bed, I clung to that hope with all of my might. I tried to talk to her and I couldn’t speak a word. Every time I opened my mouth I cried and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see me like that. But, she saw me, and she knew it was me. When I gathered myself I was able to sit next to her and look at her and she met my gaze. She smiled at me. She knew it was me…her little girl…Grandma’s little girl.
It took a few hours of hanging out with Grandma, just Brody and I, and I was starting to be able to speak. With each minute that passed, I felt as if I was growing as a human. At one moment in time, I was afraid to touch my Grandma… But it didn’t take long and I was holding her hand, kissing her face and snuggling in the best I could (considering she was in a hospital bed). Hours had passed when it became apparent that I needed food and I NEEDED to nurse the baby. So, we headed out to accomplish those things, and I still held onto that glimmer of hope… that small speck of a daydream of taking Grandma for walks in a wheelchair and my daughters reading her books. I held onto that daydream the best I could when we left that night.
The next morning we had a meeting with a nurse and a Chaplin. When I saw the ID of the Chaplin, I knew this meeting wasn’t going to be what I had been holding onto. My hearing went in and out while they talked about hospice care, how Grandma’s Medical Directive was what it was and the situation we were facing. Feeding tubes, IV’s, 100% care. I didn’t know that a broken heart could be broken into bits again, but it did.
Yet, I still held onto that glimmer. That speck. That very small idea that life would be different, but everyone would be here.
I stayed at the hospital for over 12 hours that day. I didn’t eat more than a granola bar and a cookie… And I wasn’t very successful pumping because of my lack of nutrition. But, I couldn’t bare to think of Grandma being awake and alone, and scared, in that sterile hospital room. So. I stuck it out. It was just her and I for the majority of the day. Her nurses started letting me help with repositioning her and brushing her teeth. I held her hand as much as possible and I started to read Marly and Me. She listened intently while I read. She looked at me as if she was studying every word. She smiled when I told her I loved her. She smiled when I kissed her. And she reached for my hand each time I let her hand go (I didn’t let go often, but sometimes I needed to; get a drink, scratch my nose, readjust the terrible chair they gave me…). She couldn’t speak. But she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when I told her that her hair and her nails were so pretty (she had just gotten her nails done as well as a perm)!
The next morning the family all met and decided to try a temporary feeding tube. If you know Grandma, you know that she is a petite lady. And you also know that she NEVER missed a meal. That woman could eat, and she loved to eat! We were all hopeful that maybe the temporary feeding tube could give her some nutrients and the energy she needed and could use to start recovering. Then. Out from left field. The new doctor called on a phone, from a room away, to tell us that a feeding tube would not work for Grandma. She had failed all of her swallow tests and she would not be able to handle it…and could possibly choke and that would only cause more harm. Just. Like. That. There was no more hope. No more glimmer. No more tomorrows. No more. No. More.
I sat in the back corner of her room, next to the window, starring at the hospital equipment. I studied her heartbeat and monitored her oxygen levels…it provided some sort of comfort knowing that she was breathing and that her heart was beating strongly. As I focused on the machines, I started to daydream. The past couple of days I had taken trips back in time to when Grandma would play for hours in the hallway with me, rolling a ball back and forth. She made me French Toast for dinner and she laid next to me at nap time and sang me songs. She always said “Its just a cat-nap.” And I fell for it every single time.
I stayed until dinner time that night. When I left Grandma for the night, I left a part of my heart in that room with her. I didn’t know how much longer we had with her, but I knew I wanted to hold her hand as much as possible until our time was up.
The next morning I slept a little later than I had the days before. The lack of food and sleep was getting to me. But, once I got moving, my main and only goal for the day was to be with Grandma. I didn’t even eat breakfast when I packed up my breast pump and headed out to the car. When I got to Grandma’s room, all over the monitors were shut off. I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a moment or two. But, when you make a decision to let someone go, there is no need for machines, so, they turned them off. It was also time to move her to another room as she would no longer need to constant monitoring from an ICU nurse. And, yet another decision was to be made. Her IV was causing more harm than good as fluids were building up, possibly in her lungs or in her brain. Every decision was getting harder. Every decision was one step closer. Every decision felt like 100 pounds of weight on my heart. And not a single decision was easy. Even if we knew it was the right decision, every single decision was worse than the previous one.
We stayed in that room for a couple of days. We had an excellent view of Mt. Rainier as well as downtown Tacoma. We watched the fog roll out everyday and we took notice to the leaves changing colors at the park. Grandma also started to sleep more and when she was awake, we were no longer sure if she was aware of us or who we were. But, as long as she wanted her hand held, we were going to do it. Faithfully. Loyally.
Wednesday came. A week had passed since Grandma had her stroke. A week had passed since the stroke took a hold of every aspect of my Grandmother. A week had passed since her stroke started to kill her…
Thursday morning was the morning that we would be transporting Grandma to hospice care. I remember being so scared. I was afraid she wouldn’t make it during the transfer and that she would go while we were all on our way to greet her at her new residence. I prayed pretty hard. Before the medics got there I held her hand and asked her to hold on til we got situated at the new place. The thought of her passing in the ambulance with no one with her, hurt my heart. I remember seeing the stretcher outside of her hospital room… A feeling of disbelief came over me… But, I thanked the medics and asked them to drive slowly and ever so gently. They assured me they would.
I walked out to my car with my Dad. If there is one thing I can say about all of this, it is that my Dad was there. He was there. He was there in the morning and all through the afternoon. He brought flowers. He brought snacks. He urged me to eat. My Dad was there. Just having him there made me feel ok. Made me feel safe. And, I couldn’t have made it through the transfer and getting her set up in her new place without him. There is comfort in having Dad there. Thanks Dad.
Dad and I went separate ways to the hospice center. I drove in complete silence. It was a deafening silence. As I exited off of the freeway, I saw Grandma’s ambulance coming from a different direction. My heart swelled up and my chin quivered. I just love that woman so much, and it made me happy to see her vehicle. Just knowing that they were just ahead of me, made me feel comforted, once again.
Once we got Grandma settled in, Dad and I just sat there. There was no hustle and bustle of a hospital. It was just quiet. An even more deafening quiet than what I had just experienced in my car.
Family came. Family went. My Mom was encouraging me to go home. But, for whatever reason, I couldn’t. My friend Tina was texting me throughout this whole experience, offering support and checking in. I told her I was having a hard time and thats when she encouraged me to say my peace. I had held hands in prayer circles, praying that Jesus would take his princess home and affirming that we were all ok with her going… But, I had never said what I needed to say. My Mom finally talked me into going home…I unwillingly agreed and started to give Grandma her nightly loves… and thats when I noticed that it felt like Grandma was running a fever. The hospital had given us a pamphlet of what to expect. One of the signs of imminent death is a fever. I went out to the hallway and asked the nurse to check her temp. There is was. Grandma had a fever of 101.2. The nurse said that he would give her some tylenol and that hopefully that would help it to come down and he would call me if anything changed or happened…
I walked over to Grandma and removed the fleece blanket. I leaned over to kiss her… And I knew it was time. Tears started falling and I almost felt like I had stage fright. But, I went ahead and spoke the words straight from my heart. I thanked her for being such a GREAT Grandma. I thanked her for being MY Grandma. I told her repeatedly that I loved her. I told her that I loved her SO much. I kissed her cheek several times and held her hand. I said goodbye.
As I drove out of the parking lot I could barely see through my tears. I was not only crying, I was ugly crying and loud crying. I felt in my heart of hearts that I would never see Grandma again. I needed to talk to someone so I called my husband. He listened to me and breathed with me… In the background I could hear my 3 year old demanding that she talked to me… When she got the phone she told me that she loved me and missed me… And then she sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I started crying different tears. The tears of sadness were now being drowned by tears of love…
Friday morning I felt like I needed a break. My nanny came early as I had requested… But, instead of going to the hospice center, I decided to take my older two daughters to brunch and a movie. I needed some time with them. So, we went. And it was a nice few hours. Away from death. Away from sorrow.
That evening we dropped off the older girls at gymnastics and then my husband, two younger ones and myself, went to go see Grandma. This would be the first time any of my girls were seeing Grandma. I didn’t want my older girls to see Grandma like that, but I felt somewhat safe bringing the littlest ones. Gracie was a little nervous at first. She knew Grandma was sick and she wasn’t too sure of that. It took a little warming up to, but she eventually played around Grandma’s bed only asking a few times “What happened?”
When it was time to leave, I felt different. I didn’t feel torn about leaving. I felt at peace. I felt at peace about Grandma going, and I felt at peace with going home for the night. I didn’t cry as I had the previous 9 nights leaving her for the night. I felt incredibly and strangely, at peace. I walked over to her and told her I loved her, asked her to tell Grandpa that I loved him and then I kissed her on her cheek. My 3 year old was standing near the foot of her bed so I told her to blow Grandma kisses and tell her goodnight, and she did just that. As we all walked out the door, I turned over my shoulder and said one last time “Goodnight Grandma, I love you” and headed out for the night.
When I got home, as I snuggled into bed, I turned my phone off, which I hadn’t done since Grandma had her stroke. I was on the call list, but, I turned my phone off and prayed with the family for a good night of sleep.
That night, the baby only woke up once.
At 8:00am, my house phone rang. The only people who have that number are my parents and solicitors. I urged my husband to turn it off (and not wake the little ones…after all, it was Saturday morning)… He didn’t turn it off. Instead, he told me it was my parents and that I needed to call them…
Grandma passed peacefully at 3:15 (ish) on Saturday morning, October 11th.
If you know Grandma, then you know that I am Grandma’s Girl. I always have been, and I always will be. I could do no wrong in that woman’s eyes and to her, she only saw perfection in me. Perhaps her eyes were bad, but, that woman loved me so very much. In my heart… In my heart of hearts… I believe that she was waiting until I was ready. She always put me first and it doesn’t surprise me that even in her last days, she would continue to put me first. I am not sure I have ever deserved that kind of unconditional love, but I am so lucky that she chose to love me. I am so lucky that I got to have her as my Grandma. I am so lucky that I have had such a constant in my life. I only knew her for 32 years, but she loved me a lifetime and then some. She waited until I was ready for her to go before she went to dance in the arms of Jesus and celebrate her Coronation Day. She waited. She waited for me. Thats how much she loved me…
PINIMAGEThe very last picture I ever took of the two of us together. This simple image of two hands, is the circle of life. She held my hand when I was in need of guidance and love, and I held her hand when she needed comfort and love.
I am so thankful and so blessed that I was able to spend those mornings, days and nights with her. That time I spent with her, I will cherish for the rest of my days. And, SO many people helped make that possible.
My dear husband. Brody. He provided unlimited tight hugs and a shoulder to cry on, not to mention packing me lunches (even though I didn’t eat them), cleaning my breast pump nightly and playing the part of daddy and mommy at home. Thank you Brody.
My very best friend. Brooke. Auntie Brooke. She was available to me as much as possible. To care for the kiddos and to listen to me when I NEEDED to talk. I still NEED to talk…and she is still there. Thank you Brooke.
I know I mentioned my Dad above. What a comforting presence he was. He made me feel safe. If Dad was there, I knew it was going to be okay. Thank you Dad.
Mom. I sat on your lap in that awful chair in Grandma’s room. We lived through this together. Thank you for giving me the time I needed with her.
Leann. My long lost Auntie. I hardly knew you two weeks ago. It had be over a decade since we had talked. In the past two weeks we’ve been through a lot together and I am thankful for your support and your love. I am thankful for the connection that we are making and I am looking forward to having you in our lives regularly. Thank you Leann.
Tina. You have no idea how much your support meant to me throughout all of this. Just the simple check in texts made me feel like you were there with me. Thank you Tina.
Dianne. Thank you for coming to our house and watching the little ones for us while we say our final goodbyes. And, thank you for the comfort food. And, thanks for being here. It is nice to have you here. Your presence is a blessing to us. Thank you Dianne.
Elma. Auntie Elma. I loved seeing you love on Grandma. I loved hearing of your memories and your love for her. I am thankful that you were a constant fixture throughout the past two weeks. You and Steve are sheer blessings. Thank you Elma,
The nanny. She was available and worked a 16 hour shift (or something crazy like that) for me so I could stay longer. I always wanted to stay longer, and she never said anything other than, “of course I can.” Thank you Megan.
Heidi & Brooke. My new neighbors. My new girls. My new supportive village. Thank you for picking up the girls and for the constant support. You girls are rad and I am so happy that you are in my life and our lives. Thank you.
Work. Ha ha. I am so very thankful that I was allowed to take the time off I needed to be with my Grandma and my family. Very Thankful. Thank you.
And, to all of my friends that checked in, or liked an image I posted of my Grandmother and I, THANK YOU. Those simple gestures meant so much. When you are in the midst of death, it isn’t hard to feel alone. But with the support from you, I didn’t feel as alone. I felt supported and loved. Thank you. Thank you so much. I have some wonderful people in my life and I wish I could hug you all.
My Grandma meant the world to me. She was my very best friend when I was a little girl. She held my hand and taught me nursery rhymes. She took me roller skating regularly. She always let me have milk shakes with hamburgers and she never made me eat beans. She would move the moon for me if I asked her to. She loved me with every breath she took. She taught me how to love.
Oh Grandma. Thank you. Thank you for being my Grandma. Thank you for loving me and for always being there. You never missed a concert, recital or anything that meant something to me. You were always there. And you will always be here. I will carry you in my heart wherever I go, and you will always be here with me. I am sad that I have to say my final goodbye in just a few hours, but I am so happy for you. I hope that you are dancing your heart out with Grandpa and that Frank (Sinatra) isn’t tired of singing for you yet. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for waiting for me. I will be okay, but I will never stop loving you.
