Walking Her Home

Five years. 

Five years ago I quit a job I loved, left my family, packed all of my belongings, and moved across the country. I went to be with my grandmother in the final months of her life. I didn’t do this because I am a really good person, because I am not. I did this because my grandmother loved many people in her life and taught me many things. She taught me that family is most important. So, I left my life to be with her. I have never regretted that decision. 

Five years ago today was like most of our days. Quiet. Calm. I did some cleaning, took the dogs on a walk, and was watching some television while my grandmother slept. The pain of her cancer had suddenly taken its toll in the days leading up to August 26th. For most of my time with her in those final months, you couldn’t tell she was dying. However, when it turned it went fast. 

On that particular morning, I remember it being dark and overcast. It was a relief from the heat of the previous weekend. My grandmother emerged from her room for the day shortly before lunch. She had not had an appetite for weeks but came into the kitchen saying she was hungry. I offered to make her anything she wanted or even to go get something. She said she wanted two chili dogs HER way and then walked me through each step. Leave it to someone in my family to make chili dogs complicated. 

After cooking, I cleaned up my mess as she ate. I sat down and noticed that she had barely touched her food. I didn’t say much. I knew the pain in her stomach was incredibly horrible. As I sat with her at the table, we didn’t say much. That is one thing I learned from my grandma during those final days. I learned that it is okay to not have to say anything. Sitting in quiet is okay and it meant something to both of us just to be together.

After a few minutes, she started talking. My grandma was a storyteller and this day was no different. I heard a few stories and then she changed to talking about the family. She talked to me about how proud of her children she was, and how much she loved the grandkids, and also how much she wished she could see the great grand kids all together. It seemed like she was almost in mid-sentence when the fatigue hit her. It happened often. Her body was fighting to survive so hard that she would just get exhausted very quickly. She stood up and hugged me and I helped her back to her room. I noticed that she took a little longer to get there than even the week before. She laid in bed and kissed my cheek as she always did. I asked if she wanted me to wake her up for dinner. She said she would just have some Frito chips and asparagus when she woke up. (This is still disgusting to me but she loved it. )  I went back to clean up her plate and went on with my day. I had no idea that was the last time I would ever talk to her or hug her while she was alive. 

Roughly twelve hours after that conversation, I was lying in her bed with her surrounded by aunts and uncles. So much happened between the chili dog lunch and the final minutes. Family who were able came in, hospice came, and things just changed. As time passed, we laughed and sang around her. We brushed her hair and made her as comfortable as possible. 

At one point in the middle of the night, my uncle, who was sitting on the other side of her on the bed, noticed her breathing had changed. My dad would later refer to this as the “death rattle” It is not something I ever want to hear again. I held her hand and knew that it this would be the end. It was not much longer we knew she had gone. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew that the body before me was not my grandmother anymore, because she had gone to heaven. I had the privilege of holding her hand on the way. 

Five years later, I still think of her every day. I thought by now that wouldn’t be the case, but it is. I am okay with that. I miss her smile and stories. I miss her feeding us constantly and her laugh. I miss everything. When I see butterflies, or smell bleach, or listen to a certain song I can almost imagine she is near again. 

Five years later, I am writing this with a sleeping newborn on my chest and my almost-son playing on the floor. I’m tired and my lap is full. My heart is full also. I think that is when her legacy shines. How I am able to love my children is a direct product of how my parents loved me and how she loved me. How my cousins love their children is also a product. How future generations will be loved is a product of the time and energy she spent loving us.

Lessons she taught are still with us. Things like, “quality over quantity”, “anything worth doing is worth doing right”, and “there is always room for one more.” 

The biggest lesson I learned in that time was so simple. Show up for those you love. Simple yet so powerful and life changing. 

Today and all days I remember my grandmother. I am thankful for her life and what it has taught me. I had the honor of walking my grandmother home to heaven. I know that she has walked with me the last five years from heaven and will continue until I see her again.

Koko