I had to tell me mom who was driving in the car behind me, on her way to help my move into my new place. How fast things changed. Minutes earlier it was a beautiful day and I was so full of hope and anticipation. I was ready to start my life again after living somewhere that wasn't home for 30 days. I'd finally put my fire tragedy behind me. Now I wasn't even aware that I was still driving, and I didn't know how to tell my mom. I pulled over into some gravel and don't remember what I said, but somehow I told her. She took off to the other side of the county, to the hospital where they were taking my Gram. I continued to my apartment to sign some paperwork, but I felt so lost and scared.
I think that phone call changed me on some deep level; the rug had been pulled out from under me. Where I had once been so confident in my nature, I now felt frozen. To this day it affects me - when Dave isn't home late at night, or I can't get in touch with someone, I tend to assume the worst. I think I wait to hear that something has happened like it happened that day with my Gram. I wait for my world to shift again, like I can't let myself get too comfortable because it could all change. I've talked to therapists about it, and I struggle to work through it at times.
Gram lived for 3 days after her stroke. Apparently she had suffered a few milder strokes at home, and never said anything, or maybe didn't even know. When I saw her in the hospital she had great difficulty talking. She'd communicate by writing things on scraps of paper; to this day I still think she had the most beautiful handwriting. I still remember how she said "You're still my angel Bethie" like she used to call me when I was little. But in the end I think she knew it was time to let go, and the last day in the ICU she wasn't really conscious. We said our goodbyes, and told her to go to the light. We went home to wait for the call that she'd passed, and when the phone rang 30 minutes later, we all knew. I don't remember who picked up the phone, I guess it was my mom. I don't remember much from that day given my state of emotion. But the one thing I do remember, that I'll never forget, was how blue the sky was that day; there wasn't a cloud in the sky. To this day when we see a sky that color, my mom and I will comment how the sky looked like it did the day Gram died.
My Gram was an amazing women. She helped raise me, and I lived with her for some time. She never said no to anyone, and always put others before herself. She was one of 8 children, and while not the eldest, she went first probably to help see the others to the other side. That was her nature, and I am proud that I have some of those qualities from her. This picture is my favorite one of her; it's from her wedding day, and she was so beautiful! We didn't have this picture until after she died. Her maid of honor at her wedding had this picture all these years, and thought that my family would like it. God bless the kindness of strangers. I never knew how much my mother looked like Gram, and because I look just like my mother, it is a comfort that an ever bigger part of my Gram lives on in me. My only regret is that she never got to meet Dave. She wasn't at our wedding, though I wore her wedding band (as my something borrowed) and carried a hanky she had (my something old). And when my Aunt sang the "Ave Maria", I could honestly feel her presence. I miss her greatly, and today more so. Happy Birthday Gram! I love you!
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