I can't sleep.
It was a lazy afternoon for me and the kids--I was recovering from a half marathon and the kids wanted to build a fort, all while Leif dug in the super duper stupid heat to try to find a broken pipe with no success--we decided to take the kids to see Grandma Jepson one last time and make a quick grocery store trip in preparation for Sunday. We walked into Alanea's house, and everyone there was singing to Grandma, who was lying on the bed in "her" bedroom. I looked at her, and my breath kind of caught in my throat. I had been over to see Grandma Thursday and she didn't look great, but next to tonight's version of herself, Thursday Orva may as well have been tap dancing--that's how drastic the difference was. Tonight . . . she was dying. Very clearly. The only thing that convinced me she hadn't already passed was her labored breathing. Oh, that precious heart! The biology of it fascinated me: a body so very, very near death was fighting with every heartbeat to hang on, because that's what it's supposed to do.
Everybody left the room and let me and my family have some time with her. My mom took the kids out then, Leif followed soon, and there I sat with Grandma Jepson: holding her hand, stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear. Me and my grandma. . . . I hesitate to share such a personal moment, but I want to remember what I said to her: I told her she was beautiful. I told her that I was proud of her. That I wanted to be like her. That I had good memories of her. That she had lived a good life. I told her my kids and I had been praying every day that she would be comfortable and at peace with her life. Breanne came back in, and my mom, and Leif sporadically (he had the Dax monster). Breanne rocks at this stuff because she does home hospice for work, and her skills definitely evidenced themselves in the way she talked and the way she took care of Grandma.
It was very hard to leave at this point, but the small children really couldn't stay all night. So here I sit. 2:00 in the morning, unable to stop thinking about her poor body barely breathing down there on 100 North. I've been teary and introspective all night thinking about her and thinking about the fragility and velocity of it all. I hope I can be brave enough to do it right. For starters, I laid by my kids in the living room fort tonight, where they fell asleep after watching a late-night Pocahontas. Tomorrow, I'm going to try to be more patient with them and teach them more about Jesus. Then maybe we'll build another fort for snuggling in.
Blanket forts and smooth skin don't last forever, you know.
*I wanted to write my thoughts down before they were gone, but I hope it doesn't sound like I'm giving my grandma the death sentence. I really think she will go in the next couple of days, and I wanted to put it here before more emotions and events got added to today's experience. Next week should be interesting. I have a speaking part about family history (ha!) at a ward technology night. Then we're supposed to be going camping for the Jepson reunion for four days, but I think all of my cousins are coming here to be with Grandma or come to her funeral instead. It will be so nice to see them all. I'll try to keep everything jotted down.
4 comments:
Thank you for sharing your last moments with your precious grandmother. I was very close to my mother's mother as well, and it is so hard to have them gone from your life. But never truly gone. I've been told by many that I'm very much like my grandmother, and I will always take it as a compliment. Your grandmother's influence in your life, will always be a part of you too. I love you. Hugs from far away.
I read this yesterday right after mom had called me. It made me cry and I thought about it a lot yesterday. I'm glad you wrote it down.
Oh, my sweet friend. You are a sweet, sweet granddaughter. I hope all the prayers being said at this time make their way to your household as well... it's a hard thing to endure, even if it is a blessing. You'll be so glad you wrote down your feelings as well. Posts like this are very good for me to look back on after I've written them. Love ya.
This is beautifully put. My dad died 17 years plus three days ago, and your post brought back a flood of emotions. Thank you for that.
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