Scared to Death of Death: Facing More Than Gramma's Mortality
And Gramma makes three.
Almost.
Over a year ago, my mother and father moved across the country to live with my husband and me. My grandmother, my mother's mother, was supposed to come with them. But Gramma fell and broke her hip just before the move. She has not recovered enough to continue being cared for at home, as she had been before the fall. This meant being left behind by my parents when they relocated, much to my mother's despair. But finally, months after my parents arrived, we were able to bring Gramma here—just not in accordance with our original plans. Instead of moving her to the room designed for her in the little home my husband built for my parents, we moved her to a nursing facility.
These events—waiting months for a space to open in the nursing home, followed by the nightmare of transporting across the country a frail 97-year-old woman in need of an airline-approved oxygen tank, an accompanying nurse, and proper identification documents (apparently, government agencies are not very sympathetic to the ways of the world a century ago, and those ways do not include the ubiquitous and standardized paperwork of today)—have given me a glimpse into recent headlines in my community predicting a shortage in services for the growing population of the elderly.
But more important, having my grandmother so near, within walking distance, also means that for the first time in my life, I have an up-close view of aging, death, and dying. Because my immediate and extended family members have always been spread out across the country, I've never really witnessed these things.
And to be honest, it really scares me.
It scares me to see this person—someone who once milked cows, churned butter, dug hands into soil, grew vegetables, hayed fields, stacked wood, raised hens, trekked two miles and back to church each Sunday (before she and my grandfather owned an automobile), and accompanied my grandfather's trombone with the piano—now confined in her last days to a quiet, air-conditioned space with beige carpeting and peach-colored paint and wallpaper.
It scares me to help whittle down all of my grandmother's worldly possessions—which once included a farmhouse, 140 acres, a tractor, a pond, a dozen Guernsey cows, a hog or two, a henhouse, goats, barn cats, a Boston Terrier, a piano, a station wagon, and decades-worth of accumulation that only those who lived through the Great Depression can understand—to just what fits into a 3' by 5' particle board closet, a bedside table, and a bulletin board.
Stay Sexy or Else? Well, Please Forgive These Mommy Hips
Desperate for Their MRS. Degrees
'The Office' Shows Even TV Romance Isn't Picture-Perfect
The Double Shock of Unexpected Pregnancy
RSS
Twitter
Facebook
Pinterest
Comments
Displaying 1–10 of 48 comments
See all comments
Madalyn Conti
He didn't waste a lot of time. Three years, that's the length of time . . . that this individual, human yet God, ended up shaping not just history, but each person who will say, ?I want to come to know Christ.? "
Jane Hoppe
Story well-told, lesson well-learned. I feel your fear. Drawing closer to my aging mom and dad, I grapple with their shrinking life ~ and my own. Thank you for this post.
Patricia
Thank you for this article. I remember watching as my mother's earthly tent was coming down. I was angry at her and did not know why. Then one day i had a talk with myself. I realized that I was having a hard time watching a once vibrant woman become fragile in body. She who had once been the life force of our family needed my arm to help steady her. Her voice and personality which once filled large concert halls and graced famous platforms across the world was shrinking to her bedroom in her large 8 bedroom house. When i dealt honestly with my fweelings of loss I was no longer angry with her. I treasured what she had given to her husband, eight children,grandchildren and a world full of friends.
Patricia
Thank you for this article. I remember watching as my mother's earthly tent was coming down. I was angry at her and did not know why. Then one day i had a talk with myself. I realized that I was having a hard time watching a once vibrant woman become fragile in body. She who had once been the life force of our family needed my arm to help steady her. Her voice and personality which once filled large concert halls and graced famous platforms across the world was shrinking to her bedroom in her large 8 bedroom house. When i dealt honestly with my fweelings of loss I was no longer angry with her. I treasured what she had given to her husband, eight children,grandchildren and a world full of friends.
Jeune Fille
The honesty in this post is amazing. There is something that shrinks in us all from the thought of aging, and approaching mortality...but mostly, like you said...that process of decay, and decline. My favorite line captures it ALL: "For I know that in witnessing the end of her life, I can learn how better to live my life." Yes. And YES. Love you, ma mere~
Jeune Fille
The honesty in this post is amazing. There is something that shrinks in us all from the thought of aging, and approaching mortality...but mostly, like you said...that process of decay, and decline. My favorite line captures it ALL: "For I know that in witnessing the end of her life, I can learn how better to live my life." Yes. And YES. Love you, ma mere~
Marianne
I miss my grandparents even more after reading this beautiful piece. They died almost 6 months apart My Grandpa in the Fall of 2004 and my Grandma followed him in the Spring of 2005. I remember the feeling similarly to what KSP mentioned, remembering my Grandpa as a breadwinner as a printer's mechanic who worked hard every day in his blue coveralls. He never really retired. He worked up until he had a major stroke and spent the last year of his life in hospitals and the nursing home. I had lived and worked in Japan from the summer of 2002 and he fell ill when I was abroad. I was saddened and shocked on how much he changed when I came home to visit him in the spring of 2003. He was sitting in the hallway of the nursing home and kissed my hand and reminded me of a giddy boy as he expressed how happy he was to see me. I was surprised at that time to see how his body weakened from the stroke and what I began to see the effects of dementia. I had difficulty wrapping my mind around how the stroke and the dementia had changed the Breadwinner my Grandpa had been to the state he was when I first visited in the nursing home. I chose to flood my mind with memories of whom he was and who I had known him to be and I admit, interact with him differently as I was accustomed to. My Grandma had gone through a few hospitalizations before I left for Japan but seemed to still have her wits up until my Grandpa passed away. She dramatically appeared to slip cognitively and medically the last six months of her life. Again, I found myself when I was visiting her remembering who I had known her to be, the Happy Homemaker who busily prepared feasts for the holidays. My memories of her Big Smile as she welcomed us into her home still I hold dear. I still think of them to this day, dancing cheek to cheek in Heaven in the throne room of our Lord. It's sweet that I've had the song "Stones on a Rushing Water" by Need to Breath in my head for the last few days. I think it's the Lord's way of reminding me to treasure and being thankful for Him and the gift of my child today and not letting the years slip away and taking granted the blessings He has given me. It also reminds me to remember who He is during the difficult times to come. Thank you KSP for being so vulnerable in sharing your story.
Marianne
I miss my grandparents even more after reading this beautiful piece. They died almost 6 months apart My Grandpa in the Fall of 2004 and my Grandma followed him in the Spring of 2005. I remember the feeling similarly to what KSP mentioned, remembering my Grandpa as a breadwinner as a printer's mechanic who worked hard every day in his blue coveralls. He never really retired. He worked up until he had a major stroke and spent the last year of his life in hospitals and the nursing home. I had lived and worked in Japan from the summer of 2002 and he fell ill when I was abroad. I was saddened and shocked on how much he changed when I came home to visit him in the spring of 2003. He was sitting in the hallway of the nursing home and kissed my hand and reminded me of a giddy boy as he expressed how happy he was to see me. I was surprised at that time to see how his body weakened from the stroke and what I began to see the effects of dementia. I had difficulty wrapping my mind around how the stroke and the dementia had changed the Breadwinner my Grandpa had been to the state he was when I first visited in the nursing home. I chose to flood my mind with memories of whom he was and who I had known him to be and I admit, interact with him differently as I was accustomed to. My Grandma had gone through a few hospitalizations before I left for Japan but seemed to still have her wits up until my Grandpa passed away. She dramatically appeared to slip cognitively and medically the last six months of her life. Again, I found myself when I was visiting her remembering who I had known her to be, the Happy Homemaker who busily prepared feasts for the holidays. My memories of her Big Smile as she welcomed us into her home still I hold dear. I still think of them to this day, dancing cheek to cheek in Heaven in the throne room of our Lord. It's sweet that I've had the song "Stones on a Rushing Water" by Need to Breath in my head for the last few days. I think it's the Lord's way of reminding me to treasure and being thankful for Him and the gift of my child today and not letting the years slip away and taking granted the blessings He has given me. It also reminds me to remember who He is during the difficult times to come. Thank you KSP for being so vulnerable in sharing your story.
Melissa
Thank you for this thoughtful article. My mom (62) is in the business of caring for elderly folks, and so that walk towards the life beyond Earth is a familiar one to us. Unfortunately many of those she works with do not know the Lord...she has such a gift for her work, and prays for her clients daily. I don't know how I will survive when she and I are separated, except by clinging to my Savior, and the knowledge that she and I will see each other again. As you say, it will be painful but ultimately glorious.
KAREN SWALLOW PRIOR
I am so moved by the poignant, honest, and loving comments here. Thank you, all. I feel a little less scared now.
*