Farewell to My Gram

On Monday I flew to Philadelphia to spend a few short days with my beloved grandmother. I last saw her a year ago, not long after she had had surgery for colon cancer. She came through that surgery so well and looked so healthy, I naturally assumed she'd be around a long, long time. Well, Gram turned 88 in April, and her strength had been waning over the months. A prolonged case of laryngitis turned out to be a plum-sized tumor in her esophagus. Further tests revealed cancer throughout her chest cavity.

When I arrived on Monday, Gram was still Gram. She couldn't talk for very long, but she was coherent and thoughtful. When the television commercials came on touting John Kerry's record, I could clearly hear her say, "I hate that guy," and then something about those "darn democrats." And you should have seen the look on her face. Yup. That was Gram. She was sure to tell me she loved me, too, which I already knew.

My grandmother has always been there for me. I remember countless times as a child when I ran away to her house. I guess that was one of benefits of only living a few short blocks away. Most summers I practically lived there, swimming in her and Pop Pop's pool until I shriveled up like a prune. I remember always sitting down to do the cryptogram with her while drinking a cup of hot tea, even in the summertime. She always re-wrote the day's puzzle on a piece of paper towel and was ready to give me a hint if I needed it. She never seemed to mind having me around. I think it was at the beginning of 8th grade when I came down with infectious mononucleosis (which I caught from my twin sister, who had it at the end of 7th grade). My parents couldn't afford to miss work, so I moved into the upstairs bedroom at Gram's and she took care of me until I was better. She slept with me every night, even though I coughed and tossed and turned all night long. I know she couldn't have slept much. I still remember the comfort I felt just knowing she was there beside me. And I remember the moment I was finally well -- my appetite came back and I told her I'd like to have one of those ginger snaps she always had in the cupboard. Well, I ate the entire box, and we both rejoiced. There were other times when I was sick and Gram rocked me in that overstuffed swivel rocker until I fell asleep. All I can think is how fortunate and blessed I am to have been able to have a relationship with my Gram for so long.

My grandmother is a very stubborn and independent woman. But not in a bad way, most of the time. She never holds a grudge. She always looks at the positive in every situation. I've never heard her say a mean word about anyone. And she never seemed to be afraid, even when life threw its worst at her.

At around 83 years of age Gram learned to do email. Up until a couple months ago I received email from her regularly. Mostly forwards, but occasionally a few words about how she was feeling and how much she missed me.

Anyway, I was surprised to see how frail my grandmother had become. Getting in and out of the car was a real struggle, and she was walking with a walker -- something I had never seen her do before. On Wednesday afternoon it took my mom and I 10 minutes to get her from her living room chair to the bathroom connected to her bedroom. It was a short distance, but the walk seemed almost unbearable. By evening, it took 9 minutes for her to walk from her bed to the bathroom (only 3-4 steps for the rest of us). She was so weak. Mom and I put her in bed, and she has been there ever since. Later that night she became very agitated and medication (even morphine) didn't seem to help. We called family members who were nearby together to see her one last time, sure she wouldn't make it through the night. She did, but she grows weaker by the hour. She hasn't eaten anything since Wednesday and hasn't had any liquids since Thursday. Gram's time here on earth is short.

On Tuesday night I had some precious time alone with my grandmother. I had been praying for an opportunity to talk to her by myself, which was quite a feat considering the number of people in and out all day long. But I had a good-night prayer with her and snuggled beside her on the bed to chat for a little bit. I wanted to talk to her honestly about heaven and how to get there, and how she didn't need to be afraid if she had given her heart to Christ. Up to this point, whenever anyone tried to talk to her about death, she just turned her head and wouldn't respond. But I knew she had to face it. I told her none of us knows when we're going to meet the Lord. But she had to be ready. And I wanted her to know that she didn't have to earn God's love, any more than she ever had to earn mine. God loves her not because of all the good things she's done, but because she belongs to Him. I wanted her to find some kind of assurance. Of course, she wasn't saying anything, and I thought maybe she wasn't listening. So I asked, "Are you mad at me?" (I thought she might be upset with my talking about such things.) Her eyes got real big and she piped right up, "No, I'm not mad at you." I prayed that God would prepare her heart and give her peace. I encouraged her to give her whole heart over to Him and ask Him to show her if there was anything else she needed to do. I am convinced that these past couple days, even though it seems like she's not responding, God is speaking to her heart and she is responding to Him. I trust that God is preparing her to take her home. I know for a fact that He loves her and wants her to be with Him forever, and I'm trusting she is learning in these final hours what it really means to be part of His family.

I'm not sure why I'm writing all this, other than maybe to thank all of you who have been praying so faithfully for my grandmother. I arrived home here in Zephyrhills Thursday afternoon, physically tired, but spiritually at peace. And I know it's because of your prayers. I'm also writing this because I want these thoughts recorded. I want someone to know how much I love my gram and how grateful I am for the blessedness of family. I also came to realize what a journey this is we're on, and how the final journey to heaven is so often a difficult one. And yet I know it's one I will face one day. I pray for the grace to die well.

But for today, I pray that God's grace will be sufficient for Gram during her final hours. And I pray for God's strength for my mom and for my aunts and uncle as they lose their mom (even if only temporarily). And I thank Him in advance for all He is going to do. To God be the glory.

8/1 UPDATE: I received a phone call around 6:40 this morning letting me know that my grandmother had died within the previous hour. Praise the Lord her battle is over! Interestingly, today also would have been my grandmother's mother's birthday (my great-grandmother died when I was in the first grade; she also lived in our same small town and I remember kissing her goodbye many times as she lay in a hospital bed in their living room). Life is difficult sometimes, but it's all part of the journey, isn't it?