I've lost a lot of people in my 28 years. I've been around more death than anyone should experience in a lifetime, both through my own personal experiences and through my work. Around 11pm last night, I lost yet another person I loved. My beloved grandmother passed away. Her death was not unexpected--she'd been going downhill for a few weeks and was on hospice care at the nursing home where I work--but it is still painful. While I am relieved that she is no longer suffering, I miss her. I'm selfish like that.
Grandma lived next door to my whole life, save for a couple of years when I moved to town. Until a few years ago she lived alone, then moved in with my parents when she became unable to care for herself. We have a sort of family compound situation going on here--her house is up the driveway, my parents live in front of me, and my house is the middle. She was like a second mother to me. When I was little, she was the one who took me to the park, to the movies, to friends' houses, picked me up from school, etc. I spent countless hours at her house watching Lawrence Welk and The Golden Girls. Where were my parents? They were around. They're good parents and they understood the need for Grandma and I to have a good relationship.
As I grew older, our relationship dynamic shifted. Being a typical teenager, I grew to resent her concern for my wellbeing. I remember her taking me shopping for my 8th grade graduation dance dress and hearing her yell, "I'm not buying you a damn naked dress!" loud enough that everyone in the store stopped to stare. I was mortified--what in the hell is a naked dress anyway? She didn't want me to wear anything too revealing and apparently anything that didn't have bubble sleeves was, in her mind, too revealing. As an adult, she helped pay for my attorney when we were dealing with the courts after my son died. She also paid for his headstone, a gift for which I will be forever thankful. I wasn't always the nicest of granddaughters and she wasn't always the nicest of grandmothers but we loved each other and when one needed help, the other was there to provide it.
In her later years I became an assistant caregiver to her during her time in my parents home, helping her with bathing and hygiene. Her last few months were spent in the nursing home where I bathed her, fed her, and spent time with her. I'm proud to say that I was able to care for her up until her passing. My only regret is not visiting more often this past week, but I couldn't because R had back surgery on Monday and I needed to be home with him. I did see her yesterday when I went to work to retrieve my paycheck, but couldn't wake her. I know she heard me and knew of my presence--a person can hear until the moment of death even after all other senses have gone. I was there to assistant the man from the funeral home in loading her onto the stretcher and into the hearse. As hard as it was for me to see her like that, I felt I owed it to her.
Good-bye, Grandma. You were a wonderful person and you will not be forgotten.
