For You; Non-Linear

Death is Alive

People only go to a hospice house for one reason, and it isn’t for long time care or assisted living.  My grandmother, Grammy as I called her, entered hospice care just two days before she took her last breath surrounded by her most prized possessions, her children and family.  Though she strolled around her ten pound oxygen tank after years of smoking,  she lit up every room.  She wasn’t the most healthy person I knew, as just one trip up and down the stairs was all she could handle.  She took numerous medications, doctor’s visits, and restless sleeps so that she could be with her family.  As she lay in the hospice bed on her final day, she probably felt nothing.  She was too weak to speak, the medications allowed her to go in peace.  What the medications didn’t do was ease the pain for those who loved her, myself in particular.

A number of years back, one Christmas, my dad opened up a box with a women’s size small, pink t-shirt.  “Those damn people working for the magazine telephone lines,” she said “I promise I did not order you that.”  As my Grammy got older she was no longer able to go shopping for birthdays and holidays.  She found herself intrigued by The Lakeside Collection, a magazine filled with a variety of different gadgets and gifts.  Year after year she picked out presents that each family member would love.  We all anxiously awaited our selected gifts that year, “I know it’s not much, but you know I can’t get out anymore,” she said.  She always loved shopping, especially for her grandkids, she always found us flashy clothes and pajamas that we would never wear out, but we always said thank you and appreciated her gestured anyways.  It was never about the gifts at Christmas, with her it was always about spending time, laughing, and being a family.  

There she was, a beautiful square urn placed so graciously into a clear case that would be placed at the altar.  Surrounding the urn was a purple cloth that protected her, a soft silk that laid so gently against the toughness of the granite.  On this day her presence still lit up the room, though now she was in a better place; a happier place.  We stood in the entryway of the funeral home awaiting the celebration of someone’s life, who in a heartbeat would have told us to do no such thing so selflessly.

A woman so dedicated to her reality television shows, and Tuesday night rituals of Dancing With The Stars.  “You guys know what night it is right?” she said in a panic. There was no doubt in our minds, we did know what night it was.  She always told us every professional dancer, each judge’s preferred dance routine, and even the guest stars of the current season.  She loved to sing and dance, though her health and old age restricted her.  I observed her facial expressions as they hinted at the anxiety that was coming upon realizing it was almost eight o’clock.  In a blink of an eye we would be out of there, not to interrupt her show.  As my sister and I made our way out she said “I love you guys” as she always did.  

Emotions, how do you keep them in?  The incense of the catholic funeral procession spread throughout the church.  Each step down the aisle felt like one step further from my Grammy.  Just two steps in and a single tear drop hit the church floor followed by many more.  I cried because I missed her and I cried because she supported me always, but I cried because she was my Grammy and I loved her so profoundly.  The priest spoke words that I can not recall because I was so lost in the thought of goodbye.  I felt guilt; I wanted her to see me graduate and go to college, I wanted her to see me play hockey because she never had.  As she lay at the head of the altar, her remains were there, but her presence was amongst us as she looked down smiling at the love within the walls of that church.  She was a beautiful human being with such a golden soul, a woman whose pride in me began very early on.

She had her good days and bad, just as we all do, but each day I was with her I knew without question it was a good one.  As I watched her say goodbye in silence the last time I visited the hospital, and the love in her heart carried with me as I drove home and still does each new day.  The heart-shaped necklace I wear around my neck everyday is a tribute to her, as once belonged to her.  She was without question my biggest supporter and the pride she showed me is something I feel every time I strap on my skates, lace up my cleats, or throw on my softball glove.  The necklace is my reminder that someone is always proud, someone is always watching, and I am always loved.  I walked away from her gravestone for the final time that day in a moment of bliss, as I knew she had happily been laid to rest.  Annie L. McInnis it read,  “I love you guys” echoed.