I have vivid memories of laying next to my grandma's weak body, listening to her personal struggles with death. She was afraid...afraid of drying, afraid of the afterlife, afraid of not being good enough, afraid of what she couldn't see. I would listen and her words resonated with my thoughts, for I have the same fears. I get uneasy when I don't have a definite, concrete answer to things. Uncertainty, it seems, was a scary thing for both of us.
The morning my grandma passed away was a hectic one. Three hospice nurses were in her room, doing paperwork, disposing of medicine, and making phone calls. I, on the other hand, was in a fog. Her death was not a shock, and in a somber way, I had prepared myself for this day. But preparing for death, and dealing with death, are two very different things.
When the commotion of the morning had settled, I walked into her room. She was laying there peacefully, her hands clasped across her chest. I sat beside her, held her hand in mine by my heart, and started sobbing. Slowly, words began tumbling out of my mouth. I don't know if I was praying, or just rambling, but my words were plentiful, and my thoughts were emotional. Quickly, and without warning, I was overcome with a calm presence. I heard, as clear as day, her say to me, "Johanna. my dear, it's okay. Everything works out the way it is supposed to."
Johanna- This brought positive goosebumps to my arms. What a beautiful sentiment you've written for your grandmother (and for the healing in yourself, too). Is your whole blog dedicated to your Grandmother? She seems to be your theme, which I think is just wonderful. You are a deeply spiritual person, and I cherish our friendship, even if it is primarily electronic. Thank you for sharing these thoughts with the world. God bless, Caitlin
ReplyDelete