My grandmother is dying.
My Nana suffers from Alzheimer’s which has gotten progressively
worse over the years. On Thursday, I received a call from my family in Texas letting
me know that the nursing home she was at called in my mother to let her know
that her health was failing and that she needed to call in family to begin preparing.
On Friday, she was sent to the hospital and placed in ICU after she began vomiting
what appeared to be old blood. They found multiple blood clots, an ulcer in her
stomach and other health issues based around her age and lack of movement. Last night they took her off the ventilator and moved her to
a different floor of the hospital and called in palliative care to make her
comfortable. She is still breathing on her own. Her heart is strong. But she won’t
make it past this stage and the goal now is to make her comfortable until she passes
on.
Nana meeting Snuggle Bug for the first time.
This woman is so much more than a grandmother to me. She has
been like a mother. I was brought home from the hospital to her home. My family
lived with her when I was a small child. She’d bake strawberry birthday cakes
for me. She took me with her to bingo at the local VFW hall. I’ll never forget
running to her car after school and going back to her house where she’d offer
me cookies and I’d watch cartoons.
She was an independent woman who did things on her own. She
raised her daughters on her own. She took care of her home and on her own. When
she decided she wanted to do something, she did it on her own. She never asked
for help because she never seemed to need it. She told you straight out what
she was thinking, and you didn’t have to like it but that didn’t matter because
she was honest. Maybe lacking in tact at moments but that was what made her so
amazing.
Thanksgiving
I remember her home. The smells, the feelings and the
memories. I remember her backyard. The large pecan tree that she’d send us out
to gather pecans for pie. The clothes line where I’d stand between the wet
sheets she’d hung and feel the breeze run through the fabric. The smell of the honeysuckle
that grew on the fence and the rose bush at the back of the yard. I remember
her kitchen where I stood on a step stool to hand wash dishes. The meals she
made in that room after she’d light the stove. The tiny flowers I would bring
to her that she’d put in a small vase on the windowsill. The smell of the Texas
summer breeze that would come through the windows. The evenings spent watching
Wheel of Fortune. The days spent jumping off the front porch, hanging from the
hand rail and looking for the best chalk rock to draw on the sidewalk with. She brought food when we were hungry and had
nothing in the cabinets or refrigerator. She looked for me when I ran away from
home. She dealt with my teenage attitude and still loved me, supported me and
made sure I made it to the places I needed to go. She was the first person to support me when I brought
home the man who has been my husband for almost 14 years. When I called her as
a young wife, living alone while my husband was gone for work, she explained to
me how to start a lawn mower. She drove to my house in Kansas to meet Snuggle Bug
a few weeks after she was born.
She taught me to cook. She taught me to clean. She taught me
the value of making sure you always look presentable. She told me my tattoos
were pretty, even though the rest of my family hated them. She taught me to be
independent and to the freedom of a wild spirit that can’t be chained down.
She loves me. Even when the Alzheimer's had taken away her memory of me I'll never forget the last thing she said to me, "You're very pretty. The next time you come to visit me I'm going to buy you a sandwich." She liked me even when she no longer knew me. The gifts from having her in my life are more
than I could ever write in this blog. They will stay with me until the day I
die. I will forever be grateful for her.
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