Buzzes and whirs of machinery bring the gaunt figure in the hospital bed oxygen and ultimately life. The gaunt figure is a frail old lady, this aging woman is my grandmother; at one time she was the talk of her high school, now she the patient in room 512.
The view from my vinyl covered hospital chair is stark, on the wall to my left there is a white dry-erase board with her doctor’s name and the multiple staff members assigned to help ease her through this rough patch in her life. The multiple doctors, squads of nurses, and umpteen other hospice assistants aren’t here to heal her; there is no healing that can be done for old age unfortunately.
“Such is life”, this is what she would probably say if she could muster the energy for more than a few audible words; that saying was a staple of my grandmother’s philosophy on anything from bills to sickness; “Such is life”.
Two bites of a strawberry milkshake, that is all she can manage now, only two bites. Once this was one of her favorite guilty pleasures is now something she can only summon the effort for two spoonfuls. I wish now that I could go back in time and bring her a milkshake she could enjoy; a simple gift from the future for her past. The styrofoam cup sits on her bedside table, full still, half-melted with wet condensation dripping from its pores; a sign of defeat.
Until recently she was a talker, I remember vivid stories of her life; things that they make movies about: love, war, the moon landing, the “great storm of 19__”, and epic road trips. Now she speaks mostly in whispers and doesn’t have the strength to talk much.
I feel remorseful sitting next to her; I should’ve listened hard when she gave advice, this woman lived through it all, both feast and famine. There is no taking back the past though, all I can do is hope for a few fleeting words that I can carry with me the rest of my life. I don’t want the answers to life, just a few cliff notes.
God brings us sunshine and rain; both birth and passing. We, the universal “we”, us, humanity, must accept death in our own hearts individually. Understanding Death 101 isn’t a college class, nor is there a cell phone application for this life lesson. Ultimately the choice to remain optimistic about what we have left is ours.
When you look into a dying person’s eyes you seem to undoubtedly reflect on your own life; its choices and tribulations, goals you achieved and didn’t, love you felt, and most definitely any hate you have wasted your time on. These things resound through my mind to its core today.
Reflectively, I sit here and think of all the memories I can conjure, both the hard times and the funny stories; just trying to absorb it all.
I remember how I saw my grandmother when I was a young child; she was fun, she was crazy, but most of all she was bold. Physically she may be a fraction of the women she once was, but she is still teaching me lessons. Whether she knows it or not, her glossy cataract eyes are saying things in the clearest tone I have ever heard.
I have this wonderful lady to thank for today’s lesson: Be bold, and never give up until you have been beaten into submission. Above all: live for today, live period.
(March 27, 2011)
This was so hard for me to read. I lost my grandmother almost 4 years ago and my gradfather is praying to die every day. It is honestly as if you took the words right from my head.... my favorite blog you've ever written. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteSarah,
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome, and thank you for the kind words. I never thought my grandmothers condition would affect me in the way it has. I knew she was near passing but it wasn't until there was finality and her telling me "goodbye" that it really hit home. She is still alive as of today but she isn't in good shape. I just hope that she passes in peace.
Never lose your boldness my friend, never.