Let me jump right into this by saying that my grandma was a woman with an irreverent sense of humor... if there was a laugh to be had, she led the way to it... no matter what lines you had to cross to get there. Grandma was a woman who touched an incredible number of lives, and made everyone laugh (and she also made them eat, A LOT, but that is a whole other story.) That all said, it should be understood that my joking in any way about grandma's death is something that she would have appreciated. She would much rather that we revel in laughter rather than tears.
I'm not sure where the joking will come in, but here's the story.
I left my apartment Thursday morning at 5 AM. I missed my flight. I caught the next direct flight, and ended up getting home two hours prior to my original landing time... go figure.
We got to the hospital, and grandma was in that phase you hear about where the body goes into a last minute rally, and the ill person actually looks like they are doing a heck of a lot better... it's a deceptive stage in the dying process. But when I got there, Grandma was lucid, had her eyes open, and was talking to everyone. She told me I was beautiful, and that's something I will always remember. She asked how my boyfriend was, and when I told her I didn't have one she said "That's just nuts, a beautiful girl like you running around with no boy on her arm," to which I told her I hadn't found a boy like my grandpa yet, so I was holding out for the right guy. (At that time I didn't know just how right I was about grandpa being the kind of guy I want to find, but we'll get to that.) Throughout Thursday grandma was unconscious for about 22.5 hours, but throughout the day she would wake up for a few minutes here and there, and she would laugh and joke with us, and listen to us when we talked to her, and told her that we loved her, and she told us how much she loved all of us.
An example of a giggle that grandma afforded us, was with regard to the nursing home/ occupational rehab facility that grandma was staying at when we thought she was going to beat her illness... At one point, grandma woke up for just a few seconds, she looked at all of us and said "No nursing home should be without a beer!" and then she went back to sleep. (In her last week at the nursing home, all grandma wanted was a beer, but they didn't have any to give her, thus the statement.)
We were running down to the cafeteria to bring up some food for the group, and still having a chuckle about this wise remark, when we were joined in the elevator by a gentleman who we didn't know... we relayed the story to him and he stated, "Sounds like a good German Catholic." And he couldn't have been more right.
A couple of those touching moments where you know how deep a love runs were when Grandpa leaned over grandma and asked her what she wanted for Christmas... too weak to speak, she looked at him in all seriousness and pointed to him. He was all she wanted for Christmas.
And as Grandpa was leaving for the day, he said "Goodbye mother, I'm going home. I'll see you in the morning." Grandma woke up to that, and as he turned to leave she grabbed his butt, and had the presence of mind to point and blame my mother and then close her eyes to play innocent. (I told you she was funny!)
Grandpa being equally funny, and yet touching at the same time, at one point said, (grandma had been through a couple rounds of chemotherapy which had taken a toll on her physically) "Honey, you're old... your skin ain't lookin so hot... you're bald... but you're still just as beautiful as the day I married you." He also sang to her, her favorite song, "The girl I made my own" which was a song that she made him sing to her every night for a long time after they got married. The man sang her favorite song to his unconscious wife as she lay there dying... THAT'S LOVE.
The next couple of days were spent keeping a bedside vigil over dear ol' Gran, and laughing at stories my aunts and my mom told about their childhood, crying over stories, and prayers, and literally waiting for the end to come at any time... it was quite literally minute to minute for a couple days. (And when you're minute to minute for a couple days, you don't sleep much, if at all... it took it's toll on all of us.)
Basically I sat for up two and a half days holding grandma's hand, awaiting the inevitable end. Having the privelege to hold her hand for those last two days, even to her last breath was something that I will cherish forever... and it's something that nobody can ever take from me.
The end came at 2:30 on Saturday the 10th. We had all gathered around her at about 7 in the morning, somehow instinctively sensing that the end was very close. And at 2:28 Grandpa took grandma up in his arms and told her he loved her, and goodbye, and he'd miss her, and that she could go now... and as he hugged and kissed her at 2:30 in the afternoon, she breathed her last breath, and it was over. After 59 happy years of marriage, she died in his arms, just as it should have been.
It should be noted that seeing acts of love between my grandparents over the years, and seeing them in the amplified context of a deathbed vigil, I can safely say that it was readily apparent that these two were soulmates. There is no doubt that they were meant to spend their lives together... and for those of you who don't get the reference in the title, I'll fill you in: Lobsters mate for life. My grandpa and grandma were like lobsters, they picked each other, and they were mated for life... He's her lobster.
I can only dream to be so lucky as to find someone who will love me like that. I'm convinced that there are no more men like dear old grandpa out there anymore. I really, honestly, hope that I'm wrong.
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