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My Grandma is dying. She was diagnosed with stage four non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma back in April. We were told not to expect her to live passed May, but at the first of July she perked up quite a bit. She no longer used her walker, she defied her hospice nurse and walked up the stairs to sleep in her own bed instead of the hospital bed that was set up for her in the dining room. She went to church services and out to dinner with family. She attended the 46th annual 4th of July picnic with her church and to my daughter's third birthday party over Labor Day weekend. She travelled to Arkansas to visit her kids, grandkids and great-grandkids, and then to Ohio to visit her brother and sister and their families. Her summer was more active than mine had been! We all had hope that maybe she had been misdiagnosed...surely someone who wasn't supposed to live through the spring wouldn't be doing this well all summer long?? On October 6th, the day before her 67th wedding anniversary, she had an 'episode'. We thought it was a stroke, but then the docs said maybe it had been a seizure caused by swelling in the brain (one location of her cancer was originally on the exterior of her skull), but really we don't know what happened. She spent a couple of anxious, nerve wracking days in the hospital, then went home. She still went out to eat, she still went to every church service that was offered (twice on Sunday and on Wednesday evenings), yet she was different. She stopped being talkative and only spoke when she was asked a direct question. Sure, she still smiled and acknowledged all who came to visit, but there was no conversation anymore. She started sleeping more throughout the day, eating a bit less than she did the day before. She is dying.
I'm not delusional. I know my grandparents will die. I know my parents will die, and one day I will as well. However, I've had THIRTY YEARS with my grandparents. Both sets, actually. I can't imagine a world in which they aren't sitting on their porch watching the birds and the cars go by.
So for now, I won't focus on the fact that she is dying. All I want to do is go to their house and watch Gran. Just watch her and listen to her voice and commit every little detail to memory.
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Last night, my Gran went to be with the Lord. She didn't struggle, there wasn't a fight, her spirit just peacefully left her body. In all of my thirty years on this Earth, I have never had someone close to me die. I had never witnessed death to the extent that I did yesterday evening. I've been to funerals...lots of them, really. They were mostly distant family, church members, or family friends that I never really knew. I will never forget the sadness, the complete feeling of helplessness and loneliness that I felt as I sat beside her bed. All around me were aunts, uncles, cousins, my parents and my sister. No one in this world knows me better than the twenty or so people that were in that dining room. How can one feel so lonely in a room full of the people who know them the best? How can one experience the same event as so many other people, but feel so totally isolated? In all the years that Hubs and I have been together, I have never cried the way that I did last night. I hate crying. I hate showing emotion. I prefer to be happy and silly and care-free. Don't get me wrong, I am beyond happy that Gran's struggle with cancer is over. Part of me is even a little jealous that she gets to look on the face of Jesus, kneel at His feet, and never feel any ounce of sadness or worry ever again. Yet, a majority of my heart is selfish and just wants her back. Just to talk to her again...to hear her sing next to me in the church pew...to hear her laugh at something my kids said or did.
All of the grandkids and great-grandkids were asked to share a memory or a quote from Gran to include in the funeral program. I couldn't think of the first word to say. How do you put into words how much you love someone who is gone? How much you're going to miss them? What they meant to you? I wrote a few lines about the little day-to-day details that I remember and will miss, but it all sounded like rubbish to me. What it all boils down to, is that I loved my Gran. I loved her more than I even realized. I kept thinking that the length of time that she had been sick would ease the pain of her passing and that I would be soothed by the knowledge that she is now beholding sights unimaginable, but it didn't. My heart broke just the same. I held her hand, whispered to her that I loved her, and thanked her for loving me as much as I know she did. I thanked her for allowing me to be a part of her wonderful family without any prejudice or exclusion. One by one, her family trickled into the room, and with me holding one hand, and my cousin Annette holding the other, Gran left us.
I love you, Gran. You were always kind, welcoming, and generous. You endured some of life's hardest trials, and greatest joys, and you did it all with class, grace and style. You will forever be the example that I strive to emulate.
Velma Elizabeth Price
March 10, 1923-November 13, 2013


































