See You On The Other Side
Grandma had been sick for about a week and was sent home from the hospital with antibiotics. I went to see my mom and brother on Saturday, thinking it was going to be a nice day of snacking and watching football. She was back in the hospital and the doctors were not pleased that she was sent home the first time.
Then we got a call from my aunt. She'd taken a turn for the worse. They raced up to the hospital while I stayed back and took care of things. If I went up, I'd freak out, bad things would happen, and I'd just be a distraction. They called me and put her on the phone. She couldn't talk but I was at least able to say I loved her.
I was a mess Sunday hoping she'd get better. They went back up to the hospital and she was fast asleep, which was supposedly good because her body could focus on healing. I still didn't sleep so well Sunday night because I was worried for her sake. I prayed for her to either get well or pass so she wouldn't suffer anymore.
I was about to finish work for the day on Monday when I got a knock on the door. It was my mom and my brother. I knew exactly why they were there. I guess my prayer had been answered. She'd passed on that morning.
I know she's no longer suffering and she's in a better place but that only dulls the pain to a point. It's a blessed reunion up in green pastures but it's a loss to us down here. I know it sounds selfish but I want her back, not as the dementia, pain, and infection riddled Grandma from a few days ago, but the version I knew from a few years ago before the pandemic. We used to all go to church together, hang out afterward at Mom's, and have a nice long talk. A few times a year, she was the center of the family as we had massive family get-togethers at her house. This is the stuff we're all going to miss.
In a week or two, the whole family will get back together for the possibly second to last time (Grandpa's still alive and relatively well). A lot of logistics have and have get to go on for her final send off but she won't really be gone until the last person forgets about her. Hopefully that won't be for quite a long time.
I've had to write this in bits since Monday night because I start crying after about a paragraph, but it needs to come out eventually. I'll leave you with the song "Grandma's Hands" by Bill Withers.