This is the house where my grandmother will die.
We're not sure when, of course, but she's quickly nearing the end.
Today might have been the last day I will see her.
She lay in her chair, as fragile and feeble as one could be. Of
course, she's never been anything but an old lady in my mind, but seeing her
today made me realize she never really was.
My mom sat next to her, holding her arm and slowly stroking her hand, and
every few minutes, she would jump awake, terrified of falling asleep. My
mom looked over at me to explain, but she didn't need to. Wouldn't you be
afraid to sleep if you thought you may never again wake up?
But maybe that wasn't it at all.
It's one of those moments that you know will stick with you for a very long
time. Although it may be a sad metaphor, it made me wish I had spent more
time living the way she was dying. Afraid to fall asleep.
Granted, that may sound morbid, but maybe her fear was of missing one more thing. With so little time, she just wanted to soak in every last second with her daughter in her arms. Quietly basking in every transitory moment of unconditional love, the kind only a parent and child could know.
But every day we should go to bed just as she was, fearful of the one last thing we may have missed. One last thing we could have learned or created. One last, well, whatever it is, there will always be one more wish. Each night, we should be terrified of falling asleep.
So, struggle to keep your eyes open, squint if you have to, because you never know what you could learn if you fight it just a little longer...
Thanks, Mimi, for one last lesson.
Paul,
That is beautiful my friend. You did a great job and you should be proud of that.
The dieing often teach the living a lot of things. It's a bit cliched, I know, but we learn a lot from those who are leaving us, just as we do from the ones who are just joining us. The two most powerful moments in my life are the birth of my daughter and the death of an aunt I was very close to- I held her hand as she took her last breath. I stayed awake with her in the hospital for 2 days and was terrified to leave her side because I knew she was leaving and I couldn't bare the thought of her leaving afraid or alone. In that moment, I learned much more about living my life- much like your experience.
Keep living and keep thinking and analyzing in thoughtful ways like this. Mimi would/ will like that.
Posted by: Tim Jackson | November 11, 2006 at 10:48 PM
Paul: thank you for sharing what must be so hard to go through. This is a beautiful post.
This part is so moving:
"It's one of those moments that you know will stick with you for a very long time. Although it may be a sad metaphor, it made me wish I had spent more time living the way she was dying. Afraid to fall asleep."
If you need anything please know I'm here for you--as is the entire community.
Lots of love and good thoughts.
Posted by: CK | November 11, 2006 at 10:57 PM
Paul, you have expressed a beautiful and eloquent sadness, my friend. There are many of us, all around the world, who have you and your family in our thoughts.
Posted by: Gavin Heaton | November 12, 2006 at 05:15 AM
Moving post, Paul.
Posted by: Roger von Oech | November 12, 2006 at 02:47 PM
My condolences, Paul, to you and your family.
Posted by: Cam Beck | November 12, 2006 at 03:19 PM
"So, struggle to keep your eyes open, squint if you have to, because you never know what you could learn if you fight it just a little longer..."
What a wonderful legacy she is leaving to you, Paul. My sincere condolences and big hugs all around.
Posted by: Ann Handley | November 12, 2006 at 05:42 PM
Thanks, everybody, for your thoughts and kind words. I'm lucky to know good people like you.
Posted by: Paul McEnany | November 12, 2006 at 05:59 PM
Hi Paul,
Remember, that you and your family are remembered in the thoughts of our entire community.
This is the most beautiful yet poignant post I've read in a long while.
"But every day we should go to bed just as she was, fearful of the one last thing we may have missed. One last thing we could have learned or created."
My sincere condolences.
Mario
Posted by: Mario Sundar | November 12, 2006 at 06:10 PM
Sincerest condolences Paul to you and your family. And thanks for passing on your grandmother's wonderful lesson. Thanks to you, that lesson can now inspire everyone that reads this post.
Posted by: Mack Collier | November 12, 2006 at 07:18 PM
Paul,
I'm sorry to hear that your Grandmother is so sick. I am glad that you are able to be with her in what sounds like her last moments. I had a similar experience with my Grandmother right before she passed and I will never forget it.
Best wishes to you and your family during this most difficult time.
-David
Posted by: David Armano | November 12, 2006 at 10:49 PM