"Trista..." I heard her sniffle, "we just lost her." Admittedly, it was a call I knew was coming. But nothing really prepares you for that call.
Earlier that week, we had made the difficult decision to put my grandmother in hospice. She hadn't been doing well for quite a while. She didn't really want to leave the house anymore and rarely ate. I still have a photo of her laying in bed on Thanksgiving. She's curled up, smaller than I've ever seen her before, with the dogs next to her. My shutter noise woke her up. She was weak, but managed a smile; beckoning me to come closer for a hug and a kiss. So this was all inevitable, but still unbelievable.
The nurses in the hospital were kind to us. The doctors spoke in soft bedside manner voices, but continued to pull aside and out of the room to speak with us about quality versus quantity. It sounded like a lot of white noise. We made the unthinkable choice to let her go home. She had a brief moment of clarity knew who everyone was and the date, and said she wanted to go home. She knew she was going to die. But when pressed about if she was sure, she responded by questioning us if we knew how long she'd been away from her husband.
Hospice arranged for us to go home after rush hour traffic, to increase our chances of getting her all the way home without losing her. Luckily, my husband (who had been at work), made it just in time to see her before we left. From there, we had a strange procession. The hospital van and all of us following her; all the while terrified the van would make a detour, signalling our loss. Somehow, we made it.
The week was rough. The whole family stayed together. We often forgot to eat or went a while without talking. Some days, I was the person who remembered to make breakfast. Sometimes, my aunt would remember dinner. No one really slept.
On Christmas, we all exchanged gifts. My aunt and uncle had no clue that my grandma had sent me to get them christmas gifts and no one knew that my grandma had gone over our agreed amount of $20. So we all gathered around her bed, and opened gifts and cried. She was able to use a nightgown, some cherry shower gel and her favorite perfume that day too. The fact that we all got last gifts and got to give her a gift meant a lot to me for some reason. Some people never have that from a loved one. And rarely do people get to give the gift of dignity and feeling good.
Later that night; on my way home from my in laws, my mom called me. " Trista...." I heard her sniffle, " we just lost her." I went into auto pilot. I went home and changed, posted a quick update to facebook and had a mini breakdown in my kitchen.
Everything after that feels surreal. It was very much keeping up appearances, and going through the motions; at least on my part. I didn't help plan much of the funeral. I mainly agreed with decisions; all the while feeling robbed of such an amazing person. Her funeral was on New Years Eve. I remember the cynic in me thinking, that at least she was going out in a major way. Her death and funeral being on two holidays. The funeral procession was the hearse, my moms car and my husbands car; my aunt and uncle needed to be at the grave site to get things set up and going. The whole way there, I thought about my grandfathers funeral. His procession had been so long. Family from across the country, as well as most of his coworkers from the post office meant that our procession was cars filled with people, rental vehicles and a huge amount of mail trucks. I remember thinking my grandma deserved all that too.
The service was windy, rainy and quick. Only a half an hour was spent in the chill, standing above a beautiful pink, rose adorned casket. It was just the way she would have wanted it.
At the time, I remember laying in my bed just thinking that I had no idea how I would survive this trauma. I felt hopeless. I often cried until I physically couldn't anymore. Looking back, it feels like a horrible nightmare. I somehow made it though. Just when I thought it was the end.....
.jpg)
