Requiem

Death is nothing like you see in movies.  Death is messy, undignified, and unforgetable in an awful way you wish everday that you could forget.  I will never forget the days leading up to my Grammie's death.  I have been putting off writing this post for a long time.  It's part of the reason why I quit blogging for so long.  I just haven't had the words until now.  I almost wish I could forget the whole ordeal, but if I did that, it would not be right.  She held on as long as she could and I don't want to forget one second of our time together.  It all started on Christmas Eve.  My parents, brothers, Jon, and I were suppossed to go out for a special dinner at the resort where Dad works.  We got a call from Pop a little while before we were suppossed to go, saying he needed us to bring her to the hospital because she was disoriented as well as some other issues.  Looking back, I was so selfish.  I was upset that our special plans were spoiled.  I only wish I had known then that it was the beginning of something so much bigger than just going out for dinner.  We almost had to cancel Christmas at Grammie and Pop's house, but Grammie rallied enough for us to celebrate Christmas with her at her house.  Fast forward about a week.  Jon and I were in Alabama to celebrate the new year with his family when I got a call that Grammie was back in the hospital.  She was again disoriented and now could not walk.  I wanted to fly home right away, but mom convinced me that grammie was going to be all right and I should stay.  The whole trip I was so worried about her.  the day before we flew home, she was transfered to a rehabilitation center to help her gain some mobility back.  The day after we arrived home, we went to go see her.  We had a short visit and as soon as we were back in the car I lost it.  I cried the whole way home.  She was not herself.  She was so confused and disoriented.  I didn't go back for almost a month.  I feel so guilty about that.  I hated to see her like that.  I thought she would get better and go home and I would have more time with her.  The next time I went to see her, she was almost herself again.  We were all so happy.  It looked like she was going to get better.  Arrangements were made for her to come home.  I went to her house the day the physical therapist came to check out the house to make sure Grammie could get around.  Grammie was a little disoriented, but was doing good.  I was able to talk to her and tell her I love her and we waved at each other as they drove her away.  That was the last time I was able to have a full conversation with her.  I came to see her the day after she came home.  It was the day after Valentine's Day.  I couldn't understand a lot of what she said.  At one point, she told me very clearly, "Graci, I am going far away".  I told her that she still had left with us, but she again clearly said no. I tried to talk to her some more after that, but she was disoriented again.  When I left she clearly told me again she loved me and kissed my check.  I came back 2 days later and her condition had greatly deteriorated.  I drove mom to the funeral home and she told me Grammie only had 2 or 3 days left.  I was shocked. I knew Grammie's condition wasn't good, but I had thought she was getting better.  I was devasted.  The next 5 days were the hardest I have ever experienced.  I could not sleep at night.  I spent every waking moment I could at the house.  All of the family came to see her.  Sometimes, it was just too hard to stay at the house and I would have to escape for awhile.  I felt so guilty leaving.  It didn't seem right to try to find some degree of normalacy while she was dying.  I sat with her as much as I could, holding her hand, telling her I loved her.  Sometimes she would answer, most of the time she didn't.  Saturday, she had a good morning.  But she was so angry.  She knew she was dying and she wasn't ready to go. She wouldn't speak to anyone all day.  It was the last day that she had the strength to speak. I was angry too.  I had lost so much time with her from when we lived in France.  I wanted to get back the time we should have been able to have togther, but I knew it was too late.  Sunday and Monday were awful.  We all just sat there, trying to keep it together, trying not to cry where she could see.  Every once in a while, so one wouldn't be able to keep the tears back and would go home or to another room.  Someone else would go comfort them, and the rest of us kept up the watch.  Tuesday came.  She had already held on longer than the doctrors thought she would, but the end was near.  She started to gurgle when she breathed and mom had to administer morphine.  I made those of us who were there some spaghetti for lunch.  By this point, it was just mom, auntie, pop, auntie patsie, and myself who were constantly there.  We were the ones who stopped our lives entirely to be there for her at the end.  I remember wishing at the time to just run away from it all, but I stayed through to the end.  It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I am so glad I did.  I don't know if she knew who was there, but I hope she did.  I couldn't really eat, so I say with her while the other's tried to eat their lunch.  I remember touching her face, telling her I loved her so much, and holding her hand.  After lunch everyone just came into the living room and sat staring at the wall absorbed into their own thoughts.  Every once in a while one of us would jerk, thinking she had stopped breathing and settle into the couch again when we saw she still held on.  Pop had to step into the kitchen to shop the health aide something.  Noone was looking at Grammie.  I watched her breath out one more time, and waited for the next breath but it never came.  I just looked at her, and I couldn't move. I wanted to say something, but I just couldn't.  Mom finally looked at her too.  She watched her for a moment and turned really pale.  She got up and checked Grammie's breathing, but she wasn't anymore.  There was a single tear on her pillow.  That tear was the worst part.  She didn't want to go.  She wanted to stay with us, but her body let her down. We all got up and stood around the bed and cried.  Pop came back when he heard and mom had to tell him grammie was gone.  I have never heard people cry like that before.  It was a broken noise, unlike any other.  It comes from the pain inside you just spilling over no matter how hard you try to keep it all in.  We each took an individual moment with her alone.  I was one of the last and only took a quick second.  I looked down at her.  She didn't even look like my Grammie anymore. She was emaciated, her hair plastered to her head, her eyes sunk way back, without her teeth, and her skin had a greyish hue.  I kissed her forehead and said, "Goodbye Grammie.  I will always love you."  I tried so hard not to cry.  She would have wanted me to be brave, and I tried so hard to be brave for her and for everybody else.  But when I went into the kitchen, and my dad gave me a hug i couldn't stop crying.  I tried to hold it in so hard, my head was pounding and my chest felt like it would explode.  I would never see her again, because she was going to be cremated.  But as awful as it was to watch her die, I was glad for her it was over.  She wasn't suffering anymore.  I took Johnny who had gotten out of school in the mean time, and left for awhile since I did not want him to have to watch the coroner take her away or stay near the body.  When we came back for dinner, it was like the whole thing had never happened.  the hospital bed was gone and we all sat down at the table to eat soup. I fell into an exhausted sleep when I got home.  The next few days sleep was difficult.  I felt so guilty, I missed her so much, and I was afraid of what would happen when it was my turn to die.  I wouldn't take any type of medications for a few months after (Grammie died of liver failure which can be caused by too many pills over a lifetime).  I had nightmares.  We all had a hard time letting go of her.  It's still hard sometimes.  If I am out somewhere and see something she would have liked it hits me all over again.  When I go to pop's house, I can see still see her dying in the hospital bed in the living room in my mind's eye.  Sometimes I lie awake at night and cry because she will never get to meet jon and my kids. It's getting easier though.  I can talk about her with my family without crying every single time.   But it's not something i can ever forget.  I will always have those memories.  When it was all over, my mom looked at me and said, "I am proud of you for sticking with her to the end".  I can only hope Grammie knew was proud of me too.