a gift

Hi friends. I've been a little quiet on my blog lately as it's been a tough week. On Wednesday, my mom called me in the morning to let me know that my grandma was in palliative care and that our whole family was gathering that day by her bedside because things were looking dire. Her eyes were already closed and she was breathing very heavily as we took turns holding her hands and having our own private moment with her. I was the last to leave her room as I found it extremely hard to walk away. I kissed her cheek, told her how much I loved her and told her it was ok if she had to leave. I cried through the night, positive that I would never get to see her again. The next morning my mom, my aunt, my daughter and I went to her room to check on her. I, for one, was surprised that she had survived the night. She had looked and sounded so horrible the night before. When we walked in, she was sitting upright, reading British tabloid magazines. The nurses told us that she had gotten up in the night and walked down the hallway, without her walker. She has not walked without her walker in 10+ years. Mom and I looked at one another in absolute disbelief. How was this even happening? She asked the nurse for a snack and motioned for me to sit beside her. I held her hand and she stared into my eyes. She smiled at me and said, "I'm going to be okay". She had not been talking coherently for days but managed to get that sentence out. I didn't know if that meant she's feeling better or if it meant,  not to worry, that she's okay with dying. She wanted me to hold Stella beside her so she could kiss her cheek. I felt like every second of our visit that day was a gift. It all felt like extra time that I never believed I would get. Extra time to look deep into her eyes and convey my love for her. She's 101 and still hanging in. It's remarkable to me that she was here for the first year of my daughter's life. I love how their paths crossed, these two big loves of mine: Ruby and Stella Ruby.