Mom says it’s just a matter of a day or two now. Maybe even just hours left before Gram passes on. Though her impending death breaks my heart, it is inevitable, as it will be for all of us.
A few years back, Gram told us that sweet angels had started to visit with her a night. Thankfully, she said that she found their presence comforting. And now, from the bed hospice set up in her living room of more than 50 years, she occasionally talks with the family members who already waiting for her at the next stop. Yesterday she started greeting all the people visiting her living room, “Oh, hi! Hi!” People who no longer walk among us are preparing to usher her through.
She fell out of bed a week or so ago which seems to have been the catalyst of a domino effect of deterioration. She was already quite frail, mostly blind and well into dementia. She could no longer retain memory or detail, except for occasional flashes of recollection which would
blow in and out like a rare summer breeze. She’s 92.
Though the physical damage of the fall was mostly repaired (broken hip, broken arm), it became clear a full recovery back to her pre
-fall state of health wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t understand the oxygen mask and the tubes in her arms, she pulled at them despite being told over and over they were vital to her recovery. She couldn’t remember.
But she still has the hearing of a cat. A sneeze across the room would elicit a “God bless you!”and a cell phone ring down the hall would prompt her to ask you to open the door, someone was ringing the bell.
Today my mother whispered into Gram’s ear, not even sure if she was listening, “You’re going to have so many wonderful adventures!” Mom was surprised to get any response, much less this… “I already am.”
Thank you, Gram. I love you.