Three weeks ago I lost my grandmother, my mom's mom. She is the woman who was there at my birth, who go ton her hands and knees and crawled around our small house, even under the piano, to play "Mouse House" with my brother and I. She was the woman who always kept crackers, cereal, bread -- something -- for us to snack on for the drive home. She would sit beside me on the piano bench as I proudly played for her as a young girl. She was the grandmother that was at every recital, every school play, everything for my entire life. I couldn't ask for a grandmother who was more present and involved in my life. Not only was she always there, but she was there 110% regardless of what was happening - through the good and the bad. She was the embodiment of unconditional love. You could be at your worst and she would never let you forget that she loved you. That is who she is to me, and that will never change. Even now, after she has passed, I feel very protective of her and blessed to have been her granddaughter.
We found out this fall that she had two brain tumors. She was 88 and living alone in the house my grandfather built for her. One night she called my mom and said something didn't feel right. She ended up having a "stoke-like event" that night, and when she was brought to the emergency room she had a seizure. This is when we found out about the tumors. This is when everything changed. She started losing her memory - small things at first, mostly her short-term memory. She was mostly disorganized, but was completely herself. I went to visit her in the hospital during this time, when she was in limbo between finding out about the tumors and making a decision about what to do about it. My mom had called me on my drive home from work one day and said she was at the hospital with my grandmother if I wanted to come down. I wasn't sure about it - it was an hour each way out of my way and I was tired from a long day. I said I would think about it, but wasn't sure because I was really tired. After I hung up and kept driving, I realized I wouldn't be happy with myself if I didn't go. So I did. I walked into the hospital room and instantly just wanted to crawl into the bed with her and just snuggle up like I would have when I was younger. Instead, I sat by her bedside, held her hand, gave her kisses, and just talked. I left with a giant sense of relief, so happy that I had gone to see her. I knew that I would have been upset with myself if I hadn't. That thinking is what I brought with me as I went through the entire process of her dying - thinking about what am I going to be able to live with, or feel good about, after this is all done. At times it was hard, and heartbreaking, but looking back I wouldn't change anything.
She moved home for a little while and had friends and family come to take care of her, but it was pretty clear that it wasn't going to stay that way for long. She decided to have surgery and try to remove the tumors. At least at first. She changed her mind, and decided that she had lived a long life and that if she was going to die, she wanted to remain herself up until the end. And that she certainly did. After deciding not to go through with the surgery, she moved into my parents' house full time so my mom could take care of her. There were a few trying weeks where my mom was her primary caregiver, which wore on her and caused strain in the house. But eventually things got into a good rhythm as my mom found a handful of LNA's and caregivers to help. I am fortunate enough to live only twenty minutes from my parents. I made the effort to go over at least once a week and see my grandmother and just spend time with my family. When I heard that she wasn't going to have the surgery I was devastated. It meant that this was all real - that I had to actually think about what losing my grandmother would be like. My grandfather had passed away four years before, but I hadn't been there for the process, not like I would be for my grandmother's. The first thing I thought of was the fact that she wouldn't be able to see me get married, or to meet my children. I got really stuck on this and it made me so sad to think that my future children wouldn't know that overwhelming sense of love and warmth that my grandmother brought to my life. (Sidenote: shortly before this had all begun, my mother and grandmother were talking about my grandma's property and how she wanted things divided when she passed, and my grandma asked if I would want her engagement and wedding rings from my biological grandfather - her first husband. I was so touched that she wanted to pass them to me and enthusiastically said yes! They are everything I would have wanted in a ring, and it is so much more meaningful because they are hers. They are something that I will be able to wear every day and be reminded of her)
From this point on I feel like I would float between being completely in denial that she was dying, and it hurting so bad. I remember one night as John and I showered after a day at work, and I just started bawling. I stood in the shower sobbing and leaning on John, asking how I was supposed to accept this, asking how I was supposed to let her go. I kept holding out some sliver of hope that it wasn't happening. My mom would make me face reality though. As we talked about what has happening, about family events that were coming up - my cousin's wedding in Hawaii, and my other cousin's wedding at my parents' house this summer - my mom would gently say that she didn't think grandma would be there. I refused to believe it and got angry with my mom for thinking that - to me it felt like she was already treating her as if she were dead, and that wasn't okay with me. During this time I would come over for dinner, sit by the fire with my grandma, hold her hand and talk with her - she wasn't always able to follow conversations, but she wanted to know what was going on and to be a part of everything. At times she would just sit back and listen to us all talk around the dinner table. Thinking about all of this now, I can remember the softness of her hands, the bumps of her veins as they stuck out, and the feeling of holding her hand. I can feel her leaning in to kiss my cheek as I walked over to her and greeted her. She was always so happy to see me.
I saw her on the weekend before she passed away. Friday my mom told me that grandma didn't have too much longer and I should come over and see her to say whatever it is I needed to say. I left work and went to my parents - immediately walked into the front room where grandma was staying. I walked up to the bed and said "Hi grandma, it's Julia!" and leaned down to give her a big hug. She kissed my cheek like always, and smiled. She recognized me but wasn't engaged in what was going on. I took off my glasses and leaned into her chest and just cried and told her how much I was going to miss her. I told her how lucky I was to have been her granddaughter and to have had her in my life. I told her I couldn't have asked for a more perfect grandma and that I have always looked up to her. She smiled, teared up and mumbled something about "well aren't those sweet words for you to say". My mom came in and moved some pillows around so i could crawl into bed with my grandma. I did and it was the best feeling. I just laid there and enjoyed being with her, feeling her breathe and feeling her next to me. My family was there and we were all visiting and had a really good day. I went back on Sunday and spent the entire day there. My great aunts and some other family were there. When I went into see her my aunt was in the room with her. I walked up to her bed, leaned in and said "Hi grandma, it's Julia" and she reached for me and go the biggest grin on her face. I can still picture it - and I will hold onto this memory forever. Her eyes squeezed shut as she smiled and brought me down for a kiss - her favorite way of showing that she loved you. I sat with her on and off all day, stroking her hand, feeling her face, being sure to take in every feeling and detail I could. The day was filled with tears, laughter, an awkward Skype sing-along, and just an overall feeling of gratitude for being part of the process. That was the last time I saw my grandmother.
Tuesday, February 11th, 2014. I was at work and my phone rang around 1:30pm. I saw my mom's name come up on caller ID and instantly knew. She told me that it had happened - my grandma had passed away. She told me about how a singing group my mom had been a part of when I was a baby had come by and sang her favorite songs to her, that my uncle and aunt drove up from Massachusetts, and that everyone was surrounding her, singing to her and talking as she passed away. It was perfect for who my grandma was, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way for her. She was true to herself up until the end, always the "impish flirt" (as she deemed herself), always the passionate woman who felt everything so intensely. I knew it was coming, and I had expected myself to be a mess. I thought I would have been hysterical, unable to function. But, the reality was much different. I got the call, and calmly, rationally finished up what I was doing, spoke to the people in my office, and left for the day. I didn't cry. I called John, told him what was happening, and headed home. I went home, changed and went to the gym. I couldn't even begin to think about the fact that she wasn't there anymore. Since then, almost two weeks later, it's still a shock to me, I don't feel like I've fully processed it. I have my moments where sadness takes over, where I feel the tightness in my chest as I think of life without her, but for the most part things have stayed normal. I had a hard time thinking about that - about how in one moment everything had changed, but nothing had changed. I've had my moments of breaking down crying as I try to wrap my head around what happened, but for the most part I am okay. I feel badly about this - I feel like I am not grieving "properly", whatever that means. I feel guilty that I am not hysterically upset and barely able to function, but I know that she wouldn't have wanted that. I try to tell myself that it is a slow process and not something you can will yourself to get through. The services are this weekend and I know I will be a hot mess then. Having to face the reality that she is gone, that is when I will become the hysterical person I thought I would be.
But, I have my last perfect memory with her, lying in the bed that day. And I have the voicemail she left me about a year ago, wondering why I didn't call her more often. And I have the rings that she gave to me, that I will treasure for the rest of my life. And, I have nature. She was so connected to the earth and the world around her, and I can connect to her in that way. In the days after she passed, as I stayed home from work, I woke up one morning and made myself some coffee. I sat on the couch to read my book and looked out the window to see a whole flock of birds. Among all the beige and brown birds there was one bright, pungent red cardinal. I always think of my grandma when I think of cardinals and blue jays. There are two large sliding glass doors in her sun room, where we would sit and watch the birds fly around and stop to eat. There are always so many cardinals at her house. Birds in general remind me of her because of this funny story: So, my grandmother was artistic to the core. She experimented with drawing and watercolors. As birds inevitably flew into the glass doors she would save them, putting them in her freezer so she could draw pictures of them or paint watercolors of them later. As young children, it was our favorite thing to go into the freezer after dinner and get ice cream. The joke in the family (to this day) is that anytime someone went into the freezer they were hesitant to open anything because they weren't sure if it was leftover food or a dead bird. This is one of my favorite stories to tell about her because it is just too funny! She was such a character and definitely did things a bit unconventionally. She was an inspiration to me for many reasons, and I just hope that I can make her proud as I move forward in my life.
Grandma Ruth
