The River of Grief

Grief, we all have to deal with it at some point. I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with it until the age I am now (25) and I honestly don't think age matters all that much.

I was NOT prepared for my gramma to die. As far back as I can remember, I would cry over the thought of losing her. It's like I pre-grieved her my whole life. She was the one person in my life who wasn't allowed to die as far I was concerned! I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. And I guess what? I can't.

My gramma was my first best friend, and our sleepovers were my favourite. To this day I'm reminded by my family about how I use to "walk my feet up her back" and snuggle my little bum into her. She always called me her Lana Bird, and we all know I was her favourite :) It kind of helped that I was her only granddaughter. I always got my way with gramma, and I took advantage of it. I remember calling her from school telling her I wasn't feeling well so she'd come pick me up. I'd get to watch cartoons all day in her bed and eat kraft dinner with chopped up hot dogs, my favourite meal. Next to her spaghetti. This woman made the BEST home made spaghetti sauce on the planet.

My gramma's health had been failing for a little while now. She first got diagnosed with lung cancer back when I was in public school. She was living on permanent oxygen, and was not a fan of getting old. She was tired, and had told us that if something were to happen to her, she wouldn't want to live in a hospital bed plugged into machines. I understood that, I wouldn't want to either, but when it finally came time to face it, my heart broke in a way it never has before.

I first heard my gramma was in the hospital on Friday, October 5th. She was admitted for a low blood count and was fine when my mom left. The day before that she had bought herself some new winter boots and some roses for the house, not something a dying person would do. She had also fallen last week and that was a little concerning, but not life threatening as far as we were concerned. By Saturday, my world began to fall apart. She had lost consciousness and wasn't breathing on her own. They had to intubate her (which was against her wishes but thankfully done regardless).

It wasn't looking good. The doctors gave us 3 possibilities, the best one being an infection, and the worst one being the cancer growing back rapidly in her lungs. Although we never got a true cause of death, we knew it had to do with her lungs (and it wasn't looking like an infection). We kept her on the breathing tube for a couple of days in hopes her body would overcome it. With every small glimmer of hope, came more bad news, and eventually I lost hope. I figured it would be easier to just accept her fate, rather than get my hopes up.

Thanksgiving came and gone and all I was concerned about was being with my gramma. Although she was under heavy sedation so her body could rest, it didn't stop me from being there holding her hand and giving her kisses. My gramma was always there for me through everything, and I wasn't about to leave her side when she needed me the most.

I cried every night she was in there. I felt like my worst nightmare was coming true, and I couldn't wake up from it. I felt like I was grieving her before she was even dead.

The nurses were able to lower her sedation a few times in order to wake her up so we could talk to her, but she wasn't always fully responsive. When she was, she would nod and could answer yes and no questions, but that was about it. The day we took the breathing tube out, I was hoping she'd talk. I was praying with every ounce of faith I had that I'd be able to hear her voice again. At first she was doing great, almost too great. She was still on oxygen but only with a nasal tube. We got her out of bed and into a chair and we used this time to talk to her about everything. When she finally mustered up the energy to say her first faint whispered words, it crushed me in the depths of my soul. "I'm dying". That was it. She made it very clear several times to all of us and the nurse that she wanted to go. She was ready.

The nurses asked us to leave the room momentarily so they could move her back into bed and unhook her from any tube that was giving her medication or any other life saving measures. She was given a heavy amount of sedation to put her to sleep, and we were assured that she wasn't in any pain. When we came back, the room was dark, and she was comfortable and asleep. Then came the waiting game. I never focused on someone's breathing so much before. We knew she could die quickly, or she could be in this state for a couple of days. I honestly wanted it to happen already, if it was going to happen, I'd rather it happen now. I didn't want her to have to lay there for days. And perhaps I was being a little selfish.. I had been holding back so much and trying to stay strong for her and my family. Only once did I let her see me cry, and it was when I told her it was okay, that she could go and that I would miss her, but I'd be okay. I waited for her to be sedated before I completely lost it. I laid my head down on her bed and held onto her hand for dear life as I sobbed my heart out. I have had my heart broken on several occasions, although this pain was like no other. But like she told us, she was indeed ready, and after only a few hours, she was gone. We watched her sats plummet and rushed to be at her side, we knew this was it. She passed peacefully, surrounded by those who loved her the most: her three daughters, her grandchildren (my brother and I) and three other family members.

We are born fully equipped to handle grief. Grief is inevitable, and at some point or another we will all go through it. Maybe once, or twice, or three or four times. Maybe ten times, and it never gets easier. I always felt so blessed that I never truly had to grieve for anyone. I'm a sensitive and hyper emotional person, I cry over the death of tv characters for crying out loud (and dogs, and most Disney movies) But I had no idea how I was going to deal with this. I felt so unprepared. I remember e-mailing my therapist even before my gramma had passed because I knew I was going to need help. Although I had watched my gramma take her final breath, and witnessed her pale, cold and hard dead body, I still couldn't believe she was gone. I still don't. Nothing about this feels real. I just want to pick up the phone and call her like I always knew I could. I want to have to think about the time before I call incase she's getting ready for bed or realize the date incase she's at bingo. I want to ask her how she makes her macaroni salad taste so darn good. I want the recipe for Opadildoc (her secret pasta dish). I want to ask her how I'm supposed to grieve her... how I'm supposed to continue living my life after hers ends.

My therapist shared something with me that I want to share with you, because it has helped me to visualize this process. Grief is like a river. Some people have time to walk to the river at a leisurely pace, and others are pushed right in. Once we are in the river, it will take us where it needs to go. Some days the river will have a nice slow flow, and other days it will have strong under currents. Maybe you will run into some rocks or a log while on this river, and you'll need to find a way around it. But eventually, the river will come to a slow end. It might dwindle off into a small stream until it gets right down to a trickle, but it won't dry up. Grief never leaves us. It gets easier as time passes, but it doesn't go away. Just like the person you are grieving never goes away. They will always be with you, through memories and things they have left behind. And that's okay. Grieving is okay. Crying, screaming, sobbing and all that comes with it is normal, and we just have to let ourselves go down the river. The harder you grieve shows you how important that person was, how special they were in your life. I guess in a way, that's a good thing. How lucky was I to have such an amazing person in my life that broke my heart so much when she left. But I had her... for 25 years I had her.

It kills me that she won't be there if I get married, or have a baby... or buy my first house. It kills me that we never got to go to Vegas together like we always talked about. It kills me that I'm going to have to face holidays without her...and it kills me that she left so suddenly. I'm glad I visited her often, spent quality time with her and called her an annoying amount of times so that I wouldn't have any regrets. I'm glad that I was strong enough to stay with her until the very last second. I'm glad that she was MY gramma, and that she loved me so fiercely. I love you gramma, with all of my heart. Rest in peace, give everyone hell, and have fun doing puzzles with the angels. I am going to do my best to continue to make you proud, and get a tattoo in your memory although I know you won't be super impressed by it :)

Until we meet again, love,

your Lana Bird xoxox

10/10/2018 6:11 pm <3