I was the only one home with my Grandmother when she passed away Thursday. I knew it would be me. I had already asked the Hospice nurse what I would do if it would happen on my watch. The experience was difficult, maybe even a little traumatic. Not because it was a shock; we knew it was coming. Not because Nanny seemed to be suffering; she was on comfort medications. But because it was exactly like when I saw my son slip from this life onto the next.
Nanny's breaths began to space out, with more time in between each one. Her last several breaths were more like gasps than anything else.
She had stopped eating, drinking, and speaking six days prior. The Hospice nurse and I discussed how and why Nan would be holding on so. We talked about the physical aspects of being ready to let go, and the emotional. It had been increasingly difficult to watch Nanny suffer and decline so rapidly. I thought of the one thing I needed her to know before she would feel it would be okay to leave this earth. I held her hand and told her that I needed someone I knew, someone I loved, to get up to Heaven and take care of my baby. I told her I loved her and that we would all be fine. Our Pastor came and prayed over her. About an hour later, she took her final breaths.
A few weeks before she passed, Nanny was talking to and calling out to loved ones who were already in Heaven. On one occasion she spoke about my Gabey baby. She told my mother that he was so sweet and so wise. She said his skin was very soft. And she said she loved being around all the babies. The thought of Nanny meeting and knowing my infant son, and using the word "wise" to describe him makes my heart hurt so badly.
I miss them both...