A month ago today...

I was visiting my grandma in the nursing home with Jerod. I wanted her to meet him, even though for the last couple years she hasn't been able to communicate with us and interaction with her had become extremely difficult. I talked to her about how we had just gotten back from a rainy camping trip like the ones her, grandpa and I used to take and how I just couldn't nail down the secrets of her Angel Food Cake recipe. She looked good and she even appeared to try to talk to me at one point. For the first time since she went into the nursing home, I cried when I left. Something seemed different about that visit. I just thought it was the reminiscing that got to me...

Sunday I got a call from my parents that my grandma was back in the hospital with pnemonia (she had just recovered from the Norwalk Virus a few days before). It appeared that she also had another stroke and had lost her ability to swallow. My grandpa and his kids had also made the difficult decision to not go down the feeding tube route. The speech pathologist had no choice but to recommend no more food, and they took her off all the IV's. They put her on comfort measures only and we began the waiting game.

From the minute they took her IV out, we made sure that she was never alone in her room. So, with everyone pulling together, we were able to take shifts where she almost always had at least two of her kids or grandkids with her. I headed home to Big Timber almost every evening after work and tried to be there as much as possible. I haven't ever really been around sick or dying people. I've tried to work out some eloquent way to write about it or explain it, but I quit trying. I don't think there are real words for it.

I remember one day in particular when we were all very tired and we were starting to get cranky. I was in an extrememly pissy mood and every time I would look at my grandma's pained face, I had an overwhelming anger at God. My grandma was one of the most devout, solid Christian women I have ever known. Yet, she was suffering so badly and she couldn't even communicate it to us. We just had to guess when she might possibly need the morphine or other medications to help her sleep. It wasn't fair and I was letting God know about it. It wasn't until later that I actually thought about what my grandma would tell me about my attitude and my anger. She would not have approved.

It took my grandma a little over a week to die from when they took all fluids away from her. It was a bittersweet time with my family. I became a lot closer to an aunt that I had never really had a real conversation with. She told me things about my grandma I had never heard before. She had been sick for so long, that it was getting hard for me to remember my grandma back when she was healthy and walking and talking. One thing that resonated among all of us was how grandma affected and shaped us, even though she never was a big talker and always a very quiet spirited woman. She was incredibly strong physically and spiritually and it showed. I know she was out of it most of the time from the morphine, but I really hope my grandma heard and understood those conversations around her. I hope she knew how many hearts she had touched and how many lives she had affected. I pray that she gained some sort of comfort and hope in those times of fear. I hope she saw that she had taught her children and grandchildren, through her consistency and faithfulness, how to love.

I love the thought of Grandma with her Savior. I really have no idea what heaven will be like, but I'd like to think of her running through fields of wildflowers on healthy legs and I can see her holding her baby girl....and finally being able to smile again. I love you, Grandma and I miss you so much, but I rejoice in the hope that we have in Christ...the hope she showed to me and taught me everyday.

Beulah Ruth 1925-2006

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Proverbs 3:5,6