How to say it

I dedicated my fourth Toastmaster's speech to my grandmother.  Yesterday was her birthday, and I needed to talk about her.  I didn't do as well in the delivery as I had wished, but here it is.....

I called my grandmother Gaga.  She was a formal lady, wanting to be called grandmother.  All that I could get out was Gaga, and by the time I could say Grandmother, my little brother had come along and he wanted to call her Gaga.  She was a steady force in my life, teaching me many life lessons.  I remember one time when her sister had died.  I was about 10 and I went crying to her, afraid she would die soon.  Gaga simply smiled and said “Oh that will be the most Glorious day!”  I saw no fear of dying, and no sorrow.  This helped form my views on death and ultimately helped to form my views on life.

Soon after my grandfather died, my family moved into Gaga’s house to care for her.  She was in her nineties, and crippled with arthritis.  I was married with one child.  It was an interesting arrangement, and at times excruciatingly difficult.  However, I grew to know my grandmother in an intimate way, and our family was blessed.  When I became pregnant with our second child, we decided to move back to our house and Gaga moved to an assisted living facility.  When she reached the point of needing hospice care, we moved her back home.  She was 98 years old.  Her niece became her Doctor, and the local Priest became our Chaplin. 

When her niece, the physician, Dr. Anna and I decided to tell my grandmother our plans for hospice care, I was greatly distressed.  How do you tell a loved one “We can’t do anything to keep you living,  We can only help you die.”  Dr Anna found a way to be direct and kind, my grandmother responded with love and compassion.  She said she was sorry that we had to be the ones to have this talk with her.  She hated to see *our* distress.

This was my last semester of nursing school.  I had two small kids and it was only me and my mom to help care for my grandmother.  We hired people to help, and they became a part of our family.  On a Wednesday, I found myself going to my final day of clinicals and my phone rang.  It was one of our helpers, Mary, and she said the words “Death rattle”.  I knew it was time.  My mom, of course was halfway to Myrtle Beach for an important dental appointment, and my husband was in California.  So I was left to handle it alone, or so I thought.  I reached my grandmother’s bedside to realize that she needed help, and I found something to suction her mouth.  I hadn’t been prepared for the physical part of dying.  Alas, we settled things down, I went to the phone.  I didn’t want us to be alone, and I called for the Priest.  I began to panic that she wouldn’t arrive in time and reached for that Book of Common Prayer.

“Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Harriet.  Acknowledged, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.  Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.”

 As I was finishing, I realized that Mary had joined me and we ended with Amen.  We both paused for a moment in reverence, appreciating a sacred moment.  Later, when the door bell rang, I answered it, announcing to the Priest. “ It’s ok, I’ve already said the prayers.”

She smiled and sat at the bedside with me.  Mary decided to leave, and we were left to hold vigil.  My grandmother would not die easily, and I’ve often wondered why.  Once someone reaches a physical state of not breathing effectively, I thought that death followed quickly.  Not with Gaga.  This was agonizing. 

Later that day, my dad brought over my two kids.  My 7 year old daughter didn’t need to be told what was happening, she knew.  She and her brother went and picked flowers out of my grandmother’s yard and placed them on her bed.  My grandparents were life-long gardeners and loved flowers.  My kids made several trips, and filled the bed.  It was probably the most amazing sight I had ever seen. 

I stayed the night reading a Pat Conroy novel.  The next day, I went to my final nursing class, and then I returned to her bedside.  By the next day, exhaustion and anger had set in.  I even called the Priest and lamented “I am so angry right now!”  Her response was loving and kind.  She invited me to have integrity with my emotions and not be ashamed.  I remain grateful for that pastoral moment.

By Friday, I was at the end of my rope, and Doctor Anna offered to spend the night.  She was a God send, as was the food people sent over.  By Saturday night, we realized that, perhaps, Gaga needed to be left alone.  A fellow nursing student told me that many people choose to die by themselves, it being too hard to die while loved ones are holding vigil.  My mom stayed in the house, and I went home.  The call in the middle of the night was a relief.  I drove to the house to see my grandmother’s body at rest and at peace.  I watched the sun rise on my way home.  A new day.

On Monday, I took the first of my nursing finals.  On Tuesday we buried my grandmother.  I gave a eulogy during the church service.  At the cemetery, I waited until everyone had left, said my good byes and put the first pile of dirt on the casket. I felt, in some way, I had earned this honor.  It turned out to be that glorious day my grandmother had spoken of, and we spent it among family and friends.

Wednesday I took my last nursing final.  This week was complete, and I, honestly, don’t know how I survived.  Much of it was a blur.  I haven’t taken the time to write this down and talk about it, until now.  Yesterday would have been Gaga’s 105^th birthday, and I am just starting to realize how much I miss her.   Having spent that week in complete survival mode, I realize I pushed much of my grieving away, not having the strength to deal with it.  Now, I realize that I am in a safe place.  It is good for me to spend some time talking about this week.  It changed my life, and I want to share it.

In my career as a nurse, I have had the privilege of being with people at a time surrounding death.  Dying, like birthing, is hard work.  It has its physical processes and spiritual ones.   This week my grandmother died has been very formative in my practice as a nurse and a Christian.  I remain grateful for what my grandmother taught me in her life, and in her death.