The trip out here was tedious. I detest flying and it seems like a secondary punishment when I'm already on a mission I'd rather not complete. The flight was long but Edward and I were lucky enough to get three seats to ourselves so we weren't crammed into the personal space of others (something else I hate about travelling).
Right before boarding, I got a call from my stepdad saying that Gram was now in a coma. They couldn't treat the stroke damage because the medication was hurting her heart. She was in no pain, but she was also no longer responsive. I knew at that moment that she was really gone and I'd never share an amaretto sour with her again.
Mom and her husband picked us up from the airport and aside from a quick stop for food, we went straight to the hospital. Making the trip through the glass walkway into the hospital was almost surreal. The sunlight washed over us as we walked solemnly into the lobby. Only two visitors were allowed in ICU and as soon as I stepped into Gram's room, I drew in my breath and clamped my hand over my mouth. My eyes welled up with tears as I saw my Gram laying there.. looking so helpless and small. Part of her face drooped from the stroke and her mouth was caved in because she wasn't wearing her dentures. She looked like a faint shadow of the cigarette-smoking cursing Grandma I've known and loved.
For several moments, I couldn't even approach her. It was too painful. My mom and I sat and cried together for a bit. When I felt slightly more composed, I asked for some alone time to say goodbye.
I pulled a chair up to her bedside and quietly held her hand. I remembered when I would stay over on Friday nights and we'd watch Falcon Crest. I remembered how she'd also let me "do" her hair since she always had a hair appointment the next day and her stylist would say "Your granddaughter is staying over, isn't she?" because Gram's hair was a mess from my handiwork. I remembered how she always called me "punkin". I remembered how much she used to fawn over the letters and pictures I sent. I remembered how annoyed she used to get when driving and complain about "the goddamn old people." I remembered how she would order in Italian at one her favorite restaurants and how they always brought her a drink right away because she'd been going there for years. I thought about what a spitfire she was and how glad I was that some of that rubbed off onto me.
I told her how very much I loved her and how much she would be missed. I told her that it was okay to go because I know how much she missed Grandpa and wanted to be with him. I told her that we all understood and we wanted what was best for her. I told her that I couldn't say goodbye because that sounded a little too final. I know that she'll always be with me... in one way or another. I kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
We headed over to Grandma's house to meet up with my cousins and uncle to start going through papers and collecting her valuables. Grandma had left us something of a treasure map - we were to look in her manicure box for one set of papers and in a secret panel in her closet for another. We had just started the process when the hospital called Mom. We were all summoned back to the hospital and even though they weren't allowed to tell us, we all knew why we were going back.
The chaplain gathered us in her room and as soon as I walked in, I realized the monitors were off. Grandma's chest was no longer pumping forcibly up and down by the breathing machine. It was over. Based on the time of death, I figured out that Gram had passed about a half hour after I left her room. She waited for me. I know she did. And I am so thankful that I got here in time to have some last words with her. I'm thankful I got to hold her hand and tell her I loved her one more time.
And now comes the mess... the wills, the bank accounts, dividing up the life that took 85 years to create. I think services will probably be on Wednesday. But I don't think I'm going to stay for that. I've had my final moments with her and don't need to relive that in a public setting. Thankfully, Mom is supportive of my wishes and has said it's okay if I go.
So, now I sit... tired and exhausted, relieved and overwhelmed. I'm not looking forward to my first realization in the morning when I remember that she is gone. Tonight, I wonder if she is finally at peace. I hope she's gone to find Grandpa and that they are dancing the night away. Grandma, I love you and I miss you already.
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