I haven't written in a little while and I've missed it. This time of year is dangerous if your immune system is suppressed. I've had strep and the flu. I got over that just in time for Thanksgiving and then we got bad news. My grandmother died. It will sound cold but it really wasn't bad news for me. Her body was ravaged by congestive heart disease but worse, her mind was destroyed by Alzheimer's Disease. My grandfather, who is 91, shared his life with her for 63 years. But these last few have been so hard on him. This blog entry has nothing to do with Lupus but it has everything to do with dignity in life and death. It has everything to do with knowing how fragile life is and what a great blessing it is to wake each day and know that you have another shot to get it all right. It has everything to do with hope, and love, and farewells, and it is a celebration of life, specifically, Mildred Peacock Palmer's life.
With Alzheimer's, sometimes, just by looking in Grandmother's eyes you could tell that no one was home. But, if you stayed long enough, every now and then, her cornflower blue eyes would sparkle with the life and the zest that told me she was back for a fleeting moment. Those moments came rarely here lately, and this long goodbye that we as family went through was so hard and overwhelming. In the end, death came quickly. It was her congestive heart disease, well, I guess you would call it heart failure this last time that got her. The last few moments, she struggled for breath and cried because she wanted so desperately to talk to my grandfather one more time. She simply didn't have the breath to speak the words and she died with tears in her eyes. My grandfather is certain that she struggled to tell him she loved him. It was the only words she had for him there at the very end. "Darling, I love you so." I hope she didn't hurt but I know now that she's whole and well and in God's perfect place for her.
I received the most beautiful gift from her two days before she died. I called to check on her and to talk to Granddaddy. She had not been feeling well, had been unresponsive verbally for several days, was hurting, and not eating well. She slept all the time and even when she was awake, she wanted to go to bed. My grandfather had been very near death with incredibly high potassium levels and had been hospitalized for several days. His hospitalization revealed gaping holes in the legal end of dying. By that I mean power of attorney needed to be filed on my grandmother's behalf and my mother and uncle needed to be added to the checking account or at least be given signing privileges, and they needed to be allowed to receive medical information on both of my grandparents so they were all tied up with HIPAA forms. My grandfather was getting the power of attorney notarized and he was not home when I called. I spoke to Grandmother's nurse, Wendy. We're friends and she's comfortable telling me when my grandparents are doing well and when they're not. Hearing from her how badly Grandmother felt and that "no one was home", if you know what I mean, I asked to speak to Grandmother. Wendy hesitated, not wanting to hurt me but trying to prepare me for Grandmother's lack of response. I took the chance and just asked Wendy to hold the phone to Grandmother's ear. Grandmother said a soft hello and I allowed that to wash over me, the clear sound of her voice. I said, "Grandmother, I just called to say that I was thinking of you and love you with all of my heart." And, just like that she said, "Darling, you are my heart and my little joy." Little Joy was what both she and Granddaddy called me when I was very little. In fact, as the modest child I was, it is the name I gave myself because it's what they always said around me, as in, "Amy, you're my little joy." Those two words, Little Joy, heard over the phone told me with certainty that she was present and she knew who was speaking to her. Then my heart broke. I told her I loved her and would call again to check on her in the evening. Very quietly and with a struggle for breath, she said, "Goodbye". That's the only time she's ever said that word to me. For us, it was always "Until later" or "See you soon" or simply, "I love you." But we never said goodbye. That word just killed me and my heart skipped several beats with its import. When I called Mom later to report on Grandmother's condition, I left the goodbye part out because I knew she would worry over it. It would hurt her. But, two days later, on Friday, November 16, 2007, at 6:30pm, Grandmother died and I then shared my goodbye with Mother.
Mother received her own gift of goodbye. The last time she saw Grandmother, the weekend nurse was bustling around and Grandmother beckoned Mother over to the bed. She held her hand and very quietly mouthed the words, "I love you." It was quiet and private and something special shared one last time.
In the days after her death, we were surrounded and comforted by legions of people. Friends, neighbors, family, far-away family, grownups, who were once students of my grandmother, charity foundations that she supported, even the caregivers, they all surrounded us and helped us say goodbye. There were people, friends of my grandparents and thus people approaching the century mark, and there were people my parent's age, people my age, and then the children, even my cousin's child who is a little more than a year old. Watching baby Jackson toddle and run irreverently through the funeral home reminded me that life goes on and it's such a promising and sweet life. I realized then that everything, even just a quietly shared, "I love you." or "Goodbye", or just the touch of a hand in comfort, the community and the giving of time, it's all a gift. It's the tie that binds us together, allows us to comfort and strengthen one another and ultimately allows life to go on.
Oh! How she loved us all! I'm not sorry she's gone because she suffered so in the end but I'm going to miss her so much! I've never known a moment without her in my life and now I think of her constantly! I'm afraid my need to hang onto her, to not forget her, to not let her go maybe holding her back but I know she's seen the face of God now and she's where she's supposed to be. The night before she died, at night, when the evening nurse was getting her settled for the night, Grandmother said suddenly, "Oh! Betty! Look at those beautiful lights! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?". Betty, the nurse watched Grandmother stare toward the dark doorway and she teared up a little. I've always heard about a white light leading to God. To be given the gift of knowing that Grandmother was received into Heaven in a pool of perfect light and that she was received in gentle love, it simply overwhelms me. I'm so grateful to have known such a person as she.
She taught me the names and faces of all the birds she watched. She stood on the side of the road leading to their place on the Warrior River, and taught me the names of all the wildflowers. I think of her every time I see a Black Eyed Susan. When my father threw me and my mother out, and while my grandfather helped my mother move our things from Florida back to Birmingham, Alabama, it was my grandmother who bent over and allowed me to hold her fingers for hours, while I took my first steps in life. She taught me to play bridge but I proved to be a poor player. She, being an English teacher, gave me my own summer reading list- Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, To Kill a Mocking Bird, Aesop's Fables, Greek and Roman mythology, Anne of Green Gables, Kidnapped, Black Beauty, Treasure Island, all of these were her gifts to me. She and Granddaddy both worked hard to fill the void of my father's absence. They, along with my mother, and later my step-father, always tried to make me feel worthy of love. They loved me when my father could not. They included me in their life and shared my life. They gave me the gift of time and I'm a better person for it. I'm a better friend, daughter, wife, mother for the gifts that she gave me.
I hope at the end of my life, people will gather out of love and support for those I leave behind and I hope I will be remembered well. I want to know that like she, I have comforted those who need comfort; that I have loved to the tips of my toes; that I have touched someone's life (more than just one person hopefully!) and by doing so have made that life better. I want to give of myself, from the heart and always with love. I want to be a person that she can be always, always be proud of. And I wish for you, Dear Reader that you may know a person like my Grandmother in your own life. Know that you're loved and needed and special.
P.S. As an aside, the title of this blog entry is one of her favorite phrases. And to add humor to this entry, when someone would say, "I want this or that", she would say, "People in Hell want ice water." I used that same phrase on my son and finally one day he said, "Mommy, you say that all the time. Do you think we're in Hell?" Anyway, life goes on and now I have beautiful memories of her and funny memories of her and they will sustain me until I am with her again. Until later...
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