Although her body was shutting down, her mind was all there. How must that feel, to be acutely aware of your own mortality? She frankly told us that she was ready to die peacefully in her bed. She said, at 95, she'd had enough of life. It was a bit unnerving, but I mean, I get it. If I was 95 with congestive heart failure, I'd probably be ready to die, too.
When Ashley and I concluded our visit to Wisconsin a few weeks ago, she seemed strong, and in good spirits. That didn't stop her from telling us as we hugged her goodbye, "Take a good look! You won't be seeing me again!"
I'll be damned if she wasn't right. The thing is, I really expected to see her again. I figured she'd hang on for a while longer, even as the disease and drugs gradually shut down her body. I figured it would be more of a process, perhaps because working in healthcare, I've seen that long, slow decline.
Nope. The woman said her goodbyes, took her last communion, made peace with the world, and slipped off to heaven in her sleep, in her own bed. I'm convinced that somehow, she orchestrated this. I gotta give the woman props. She actually died how she said she wanted to. Slow clap for grandma.
I know that it's a good thing that her life ended now. It would have been horrible to watch her suffer. I'm thankful that it didn't get to the point that her death would have been a bittersweet relief.
That being said, it's a sad day. She really was a joy to be around. There's so much about her that we don't get to know now. It is a shame that we lived so far away and our visits were not frequent.
It's surreal that she won't be around to teach us anything else. Just a few weeks ago, we learned that Orioles love grape jelly. I'll never hear her tell the story again about the hummingbird who drank the sugar water mixture moments after it was out of the fridge. The stories about going to dances on Friday nights and wringing chickens' necks for dinner. I'll never hear her talk again about all of her 13 brothers and sisters, and how they all died.
I'll miss her sense of humor. She had a sense of humor you'd never expect from such a sweet person. I loved the way she started to chuckle mid-dirty-joke.
She'll never scold us again about throwing away tin foil. The ancient jars of mincemeat in the basement will eventually be thrown out now.
She is survived by 2 children, 5 grandchildren, and 4 great-grandchildren who are going to do amazing things in their lifetimes... and will no doubt share her sense of humor and pass on her passion for the simple beauty in life. What a legacy.
Her ashes will be kept in a green urn with a hummingbird on top. That part makes me smile, because I think it would make her smile.
Rest in peace, grandma.
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