Firstly, thank you TF and Lucy, Shawn and Linda, Greg and Barb for your condolences. It means more to me than I could ever express with my feeble knowledge of language. The last two weeks have been difficult, but certainly not unexpected. Last year, when my grandmother went into the hospital at Christmas, we thought she wouldn’t be leaving. She proved us all wrong. She was stubborn like that. The doctor’s prognosis wasn’t good. Her kidneys were failing because she was on such a high dosage of diuretics to keep fluid out of her lungs. It was a matter of finding balance. He gave her 2 to 6 months to live. She proved him wrong by lasting a year and two months. She was stubborn that way. Which is one of the many things l loved about her. But we knew that it was just a matter of time.
So did she. We all gathered at her house for her 91st birthday. As we sang Happy Birthday to you, she bowed her head and cried a little. And I wondered if she was thinking the same thing we were thinking – how many more birthdays do we have together. Apparently, that was the last. 15 days after that, I went over to visit and return the cane I had borrowed (foot surgery) along with cookies I promised her to pay the cane rental charge. I was upset that the cookies didn’t turn out as well I had wanted for her, but I took them over to her anyway. She wasn’t home. Two of my cousins were there also to visit and were the first ones to hear that she had been admitted to the hospital. One asked me how long I thought she would be in there and I had to admit that I doubted that she would make it out. However, I had been wrong before.
The problem was that she was retaining more and more fluid and the diuretics didn’t help anymore. I visited Saturday and she was fighting to stay awake. She was coherent enough to know that I was there. But she kept asking about people who she thought had visited, but who really hadn’t. Apparently she also told my mother and aunt that she was afraid to sleep because she didn’t know if she would wake up. Sunday she coughed a lot. Monday, she passed. But she fought up until the end. We were just thankful that she had enough morphine in her system that she wasn’t in any pain. I do wonder what her thoughts were at the end – if she knew it was over.
I like to think I did her proud when I did the reading at her funeral. I didn’t cry. My voice didn’t even break. My brother did a fanatic job for the eulogy. The cemetery was a little more difficult. I cried a little as we pulled away from the grave site. It was a bitter cold day and I didn’t like the thought of her being left behind out in the cold. It was a silly thought as she was all ready gone.
Today, I went to her house to help my mother and aunt pack things up. We went through and took the things we wanted to keep in memory. My mom and aunt decided that I should have her cobalt blue glass collection as it’s my favorite color as well. There were several other knickknacks that they gave me. But the hardest one to take (and the hardest one to look at without sobbing uncontrollably) is a little pill box that I gave her for her birthday eons ago. She always needed to carry medication with her when we went out to lunch. I can close my eyes and see her take it out of her purse and take her pills. I would always kid around with her about taking it back because I liked it so much. She would laugh at me and tell me she would like to see me try. And I would say something about the bad karma associated with beating up an old lady not worth it for a pill box.
When I came home today, I unpacked my ill-gotten booty. I washed all the glasses, put way the other assorted stuff, pulled out the pill box and wept. I have a giant headache to prove it. I guess I am still not ready to face the facts. I put the pill box away and then sought some comfort from the hubster.
Maybe tomorrow will be easier.
I wish I had waited to read this until after I got home from work.
Dang.
Posted by: Greg at March 6, 2007 05:35 PMEthne, Your grandmother sounds like a tough old bird...She had a great personality and showed lots of love for her family...It's hard cleaning out the house after a death. When my mom died, my dad went home and a week later decided to clean out her closet. He found several of her old purses in the back. As he cleaned out the purses, he found old papers, pictures that were important to her and other things that got him to crying. After that he wouldn't touch any of her things. He call us, his children, over to do the job. It was just as hard for us as it was for him. We went through the same thing when my dad died.
The old saying, "time heals" is true. It takes time to get over the loss of a loved one. The first year is the hardest because you miss the visits, and the holidays the most. As time goes by, the pain dulls and the memories start to fade some. You are so lucky to have had such a wonderful grandmother in your life. Thanks for letting us feel your feelings too.
Posted by: Lucy Stern at March 7, 2007 08:21 AMI picked up Granny’s old blue plate after reading Ethne’s heart warming remembrance, I’ve had it these many years. It’s a piece of Wedgwood with an explanation on the back; something about the DAR and the name of the building from back in 1820. There’s not a word that would indicate how important having a piece of Granny is to me. A pleasant thought went past my mind as I held that piece of china, enough to cause a few tears to form and escape the corners and trickle down my cheeks. I suppose it would have been valuable to me if it had been a plastic soda cup from the Astrodome, had it been a part of Granny’s life and something which we both enjoyed together.
There's more if you want to read the rest...
Posted by: T F Stern at March 7, 2007 10:40 AMOh Ethne, I'm so sorry to read of your loss. I know how much she meant to you.
Posted by: Merm at April 2, 2007 07:35 PM