Grammie

A week ago last Friday I got the first call. Grammie was being moved to Hospice care. This didn't involve moving her. Not again. She'd been moved too many times in the last few years to different kinds of care: assisted living, hospital, nursing home, back to assisted living, Alzheimers ward, back to the nursing home, it got to where every time I'd go home I'd have to find out where she was all over again. But this wasn't a move. It was just a different caretaker paying attention. And many people have come back out of hospice care. Still, I shoved a few extra things in the car before going to Yummy's.

The next night I got the second call. She wasn't processing calories. Her kidneys had shut down. No feeding tube or IV would help. They couldn't give her the Parkinson's medication. Rather than try to convince the airlines to give me bereavement rates, if they still offer that, then fly out, get picked up, and all that, I decided it would be just as fast and much easier to just drive. So Sunday morning I got a sleeping bag and took off in the car.

Monday at 9:30 in the morning I got back to the farm. A shower and a shave and then Dad and I went to visit his mother. When I went into her room I didn't recognize which of the elderly women was her. The woman whose bed was where I'd last seen Grammie's had her hair, formerly curly, brushed straight back and her mouth wide open. Her eyes were mostly closed. Her every breath was something she had to insist on taking. I talked to her for a bit. At one point her lower jaw worked up and down rapidly. Perhaps she heard me. Perhaps she was trying to talk. Perhaps it was the Parkinson's or just a twitch.

One grandkid had already come, said her peace, and gone home. Another was coming with his son the next day. A sister; more grandkids coming later still; a daughter shuttling back and forth. Word was out. There was barely a corner you could turn or a face you could see where someone wasn't offering condolences. What do you say? Eventually I figured out what I was feeling was a mixture of regret and relief with the relief taking up more space than one really wants to admit to ones self. "Thank you. It was hardly sudden. We've had plenty of time to say goodbye. There's regret, but also relief that she won't have to fight her own mind and body much longer."

Wednesday morning The Muffin Man was awakened by a cardinal tapping on his bedroom window. This was more remarkable because he was in a basement bedroom with a fence over the fire escape. Still escapable for people, but hard for creatures to get in. He took that for a sign. She was saying goodbye even if her body was still gonna keep running.

That day The Muffin Man and I went to see her again. We stayed longer. We each talked to her about the farm, about work, we talked to each other about work trying to figure out the questions that would help her understand if she could hear us. But we didn't get the jaw movements or even the staring that some others reported.

One of the great grandkids, The Muffin Man's kid, gets the grand tour of the pastures. Look! Cow bones! Railroad spikes! A shotgun shell! The dugout of an old settler's homestead! Not sure how many of those you'll get through airport security.

Thanksgiving was suddenly expanded. From 5 to 15 or more.
"What can I bring?"
"Wine."
"What else?"
"Two wines."
Another turkey was bought. Naturally The Muffin Man was drafted for rolls and desserts. I was already gathering ingredients to make the pie Grammie was best known for (details later this week). The Muffin Man showed me how I screwed it up last year.

At Thanksgiving dinner people started asking questions that others had been asking for days. I didn't realize until we were dropping Grandma off at the assisted living place what that meant. As we left my Mom told some people on the sidewalk that Grammie had passed last night. My Dad had gotten the call between 2:30 and 3 in the morning. They waited until sunrise to pass the news along. I got missed. So had my bother. He found out on Facebook.

Grandma is 6 months younger than Grammie. She's been using Grammie as someone to measure against for years. As Grammie's condition deteriorated in the last year or so Grandma's has, too. We need to help her see she's not Grammie. Otherwise we may be doing this again in 6 months.

We went coffin shopping on Black Friday. Strangely, no door buster discounts.
Flowers, crypts, forms, pallbearers? yes: 6 of them for 15 ft, 3 songs, burial then service, death certificates? 6? 15? more? they arranged it all and gave Dad the bill. Got that much liquid? Yep, thanks. Gotta meet the preacher. Mom? No, the other preacher. She needs Grammie stories. And we need to fill out this slideshow another grandkid made with a few more pictures so they can play it before the service. And there's a video tape that someone digitized to show at the dinner.

The viewing was Friday night. I saw people I hadn't seen in decades.
My bother and I - "Gee, Mrs. Ray hasn't aged a day since we were in grade school."
My uncle - "Gee, Mrs. Ray hasn't aged a day since we were in grade school."
"Hello, Justin's Mom. I haven't seen you since Justin blew up his wrist 17 years ago? How is that healing up, anyway?"
"Hello old shop teacher. Somehow I've gone from being a shop teacher major to making medical books. Please don't tell my old english teachers. They'd have a stroke. All of them."
"Dude, Ibid, when were the glasses in that picture of you ever in style?" "I was 7. I didn't get to make those decisions." "Ah. What's your excuse now?"

Saturday morning it was raining. Third rain of the summer. It stopped long enough to allow us to bury Grammie. I wore her late-husband's shoes. The great grandkids had jewelry and bolo ties he'd made long ago. Six pall bearers is just right. Mom talks. People pray. It's cold. See you at the church.

At the church there's even more people unseen in ages.
"What's this video of? Can we kill the sound? It's nice to see that lady without being reminded how shrill and crabby she was."
"She looks bad." "Yep, for 36 years that I know of."
"She's still cute despite the extra 20 years and grey hair."
"Maybe it's a video of their 50's anniversary."
"Why does that whole branch of the family look like enforcers for one of the less classy mobs?"
"Hey, the last three grandkids! Doing well for arriving at 3 this morning."
"That video was shot in this room. The camera was about 15 ft this way."
"Didn't this room have an air hockey table?"  "Yes, in much the same way you used to have hair."
"I saw you at the service! I didn't recognize you with those sunglasses and huge floppy hat."
"The video is definitely from the 80s. No other era would tolerate those clothes."
"I have a 3 liter bottle of wine." "Then we're coming to your place."

The next morning I got in the car and pointed it east.

Grammie and 7 of her 8 (eventually 9) grandkids.
(left to right: J, Fleischmann, Bother, Cake, Grammie, CA, Woodwinds, Ibid, The Muffin Man)