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Follower of Jesus Christ. Lover of people. Lover of animals. High Point University graduate. Appalachian State graduate. High school English teacher. AXΩ.

MoTD (WARNING: this one's a tear jerker)

"When all our tears have reached the sea
 
Part of you will live in me..."
 
[[ So I have this problem where I fall asleep on the couch most nights til like 3 (if I'm lucky - 6 am if I'm not so lucky), and then I have to get up and get ready for bed, and often times I'll stay up for a couple hours and get things done that I can't usually get done during the day (ie. blog). ]]
 
So that's what happened tonight, and right now I'm thinking about one year ago today (and listening to sad Tim McGraw songs - probably not the best idea hah).
 
One year ago today, I got to hang out with my grandma and have a conversation with her for the last time ever.
 
 
If only I had known that day would be the last time...
 
I would've stayed longer.
 
I would've said "I love you" more.
 
We would've reminisced more.
 
I would've told her how much I'd enjoyed having her as a best friend.
 
I would've told her she was my hero.
 
I would've read her Bible to her.
 
I would've said goodbye.
 
 
But I didn't know. I didn't know, and that's something that will always, always bother me.
 
As I was waiting to go in her room at Hospice, I heard her talking to the doctor and telling him what wonderful grandchildren she had. She told him how we came to see her so often and how much she loved us. She didn't know I was out there listening. And pinching my hand so I wouldn't start crying. I had to be strong.
 
When I went in, she looked great. I thought "she'll be here for a while." She had had a great lunch, was in a great mood, had on yellow pajamas and looked so beautiful. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and I had just left a theatre work call. It was a really sweet time.
 
People had brought Grandma fresh flowers, and there were some pictures on the wall, but she wanted pictures of her mom to be in the room. So I went to her house to get some of her favorite pictures and put them where she could see them and feel comforted.
 
We talked and talked. I gave her some lotion and some Dr. Pepper lip gloss (it was all I had!).
 
I don't remember everything we talked about, but I do remember her saying that she was ready to go home. At first I thought she wanted to go back to her house, but looking back, I'm pretty sure she meant Heaven. She also kept saying she wasn't scared of death anymore. It was really, really hard to hear that. I just kept thinking about all the fun times we had had together for the past 23 years, and my eyes would fill with tears, but I would turn my head so she wouldn't see. I wanted to be strong for her.
 
Looking back, I wish I had just let the tears flow, and just hugged her and maybe we'd cry together.
 
Why didn't I?
 
Something I tell myself all the time is, "You don't have to try to be so strong all the time. It's okay to show emotion. It's okay to break down once in a while."
 
I wish I had broken down that day. I wish I had stayed for more than two hours. There was nothing more important, or that would even compare to getting to spend a few more hours with my grandma. Nothing.
 
I just wish I had known that right then, in that moment.
 
That night, the nurses said Grandma was calling out to Jesus, and they got her "under control" by doing whatever they do to put people out (I'm not downing Hospice, but you have to understand where I'm coming from, please).
 
From Sunday to Thursday, Grandma was alive, but couldn't wake up or talk to us or respond to anything. I was grateful I had gone and spent one last Saturday with her, but I'll always feel like I could've done more. I can't help it.
 
I'll be eternally grateful for that day, though. It's burned in my memory forever. Unfortunately, the rest of that week is too, and with it being a year since all that happened, I'm curious to see how I'll handle this week...
 
Sorry for the sad post; sometimes you just gotta get it out!
 
 
 
 
eBa

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