My Grandmother passed away Friday May 22. She was 98 years old. Over the last year she had started to deteriorate so her passing was a blessing. She wasn't the same person, she was in a nursing home and her body was giving out on her. Her mind on the other hand seemed like it wanted to keep going. My Dad would go see her every day, even if he could only stay for 10 minutes, and every day she told him she wanted to go home. She wanted to be on her own until the very end, but it just wasn't possible. I didn't cry when my mom called and told me she had passed, I knew it was better. I cried when my mom would call me and tell me about her visit to the nursing home. Hearing about her condition and how she looked made me sad. All I could hope was that they were keeping her comfortable and treating her like she was their own grandmother. My mind always wanders to those horrible nursing home stories you hear. But my mom and dad said it seemed like they were taking good care of her.
Tuesday was the wake. I have been to wakes before, but this one was so weird for me because this was the first death in my family that I can remember. My other grandparents died before I was born or I was too young to remember. First of all, she obviously did not look like herself. But it was so weird to stand there and look at her, and know that she is gone, and not to sound morbid, but that everything that was inside her is no longer inside her. And the makeup they put on them is so bad. I mean I know they do the best they can, but her hands just looked so bad. I didn't cry at the wake either. I teared up a little, but I just kept thinking, she was 98...she lived a long happy life.
Today was the funeral. Again, I was holding up like a champ. My dad asked me to read something, but I really, really didn't want to, but I was going to do it because it's five minutes out of my whole life. And if my dad wants me to do it, I will do it. Well he actually changed his mind and decided he wanted to do it. So I just told him to try and if he still needed me to go up and read something I would.
My dad gets up there, and at first he just stands there because he is tearing up...and then he looks at my mom, and my mom nods in encouragement. That is when I lost it. My parents have been married for over 50 years, and they can tend to be a little snippy with each other. Basically, they limit their interaction and can only go about 10 or 15 minutes before they start bickering. But this situation was different. My mom knew she had to be his wife and be supportive and it was awesome to see. I have never seen my parents like this and I can only hope that it lasts.
After the funeral we went to the cemetery. They had another little service and then everyone went to the church for a lunch. We stayed at the cemetery and watched while they buried her. Now that was weird. But my dad wanted to stay so we stayed with him. I am sure it was good for him, but when they put the casket in the hearse, I lose it. It always seems like such finality. But watching her be buried was so weird for me. I mean that's the final step. It's such a weird concept to me even though it happens every day it still seems weird to me to put people in the ground. But obviously death makes people think. I can't imagine losing a spouse or a child...I have been lucky, I am 30 years old and this is the first death in my family that I have had to deal with.