We brought Brooklyn home the next day. He was a member of the family from the moment he got in the car. It's been one of the more grown-up things I've done since I graduated, adopting a dog. I am a firm believer in shelter puppies, and this is the only way I'll get dogs from here on out.
Finding him (and a host of subsequent events) was totally and completely a God thing.
Anything positive that's happened since Mamaw died has been utterly God's doing.
I've been ready to post about it all for a little over a week now, but I just haven't had much time (par for the course...).
The combination of not enough time and too many emotions have made me a bit of a sketch, but the people who really matter the most have understood.
It's just been so much reality-- much more than I have ever experienced in my life-- and honestly, unless I wanted to talk about it, I haven't really wanted to talk about it, ya know? It's been that way about everything. So I haven't been talking to too many people.
It's just that my grandmother is the first person extremely close to me to have passed away, and to have been there when she slowly slipped, holding her hand and holding Mom's (I'm tearing up as I type), and being brave beyond my own imagining, I have needed time to process that and to truly understand what happened, what is happening, and what will happen (which I have no idea, and I have to deal with that).
I got to the hospital as soon as I could, after being contacted at day camp. This is kind of ridiculous, but I remember thinking as I was walking out to the car "I'm not ready for this." After months of praying for God to ease her pain in one way or another, saying that whatever His will is for her, I'm okay with it, I guess I knew this was 'it' and I wasn't ready.
God found a way to ease me into it, though.
I needed to be there for my mom, and to be strong for her, so that she could be strong for her parents.
Thankfully, it's not like I was a lone pillar of strength-- the nurses in the ICU were phenomenal. The nurse manager in particular surpassed any expectations I could have had for hospital support at this time. Thank you, LORD, for providing that for us-- for my grandfather. The nurse manager and my mom's boss were in the chapel with my grandfather after we'd told him that she was past medical help and it was in God's hands-- that she was essentially gone, and it was just the medicine and the machines keeping her body "alive."
I thought I knew heartbreak...until I saw that man cry.
Any kind of heartbreak I'd experienced before paled in comparison to that.
I don't think I've ever seen my grandfather cry before, and he wept. My mom cradled him in her arms, and we all just cried.
I got there and hugged mom for a while, then got filled in on what happened and what the doctors were doing. Don't remember what happened next exactly, but as soon as we could, all three of us gathered in ICU room #2 as soon as she was stable.
Papaw couldn't stay in there very long, seeing the Love of his life hooked up to all those tubes and monitors and machines. I don't blame him one bit.
Mom and I sat in there, and after we'd called all of the immediate family, we said our good-byes.
All I could say to her was "I love you so much. Thanks for everything."
How do you thank somebody for a lifetime of love?
I mean, really, how?
The magnitude of everything she did for just me was huge, let alone the countless others who'd ever felt just a drop of her love.
I don't think I'll ever be able to leave that thought without a tear-stained cheek.
We sat in the room for a while, I guess. After Papaw left, his three girls held hands. I know my grandfather has more than three girls, but this family of four has been my nuclear family since the day I was born. I've never lived in another permanent residence without them. For 23 years, these people have been my concept of home, and now I had to let one go.
Mom and I prayed, and after a few minutes, she said, "I feel really peaceful, don't you?"
I said yes, and I suppose I meant it. I'd been watching Mamaw's blood pressure and heart rate gradually drop, and that's when I knew for certain she was leaving and there was absolutely nothing I could do. Mom and I talked about it, and decided we needed to take her off the respirator.
In the moment, it wasn't difficult at all because I knew it needed to be done.
It wasn't fair to keep her trapped in that body when it was clear that she'd already gone.
I got to the hospital a little after 11:00, and she was pronounced dead at 1:12 on Thursday, June 17, 2010.
After that, I was a little numb. One of my best friends in the world came to the hospital for support and to drive my grandfather home. He wasn't fit to drive, but he didn't need to stay at the hospital. I stayed there with mom to help take care of all the stuff you have to do when someone dies. Then, we drove home and the three of us just sat in our living room for about an hour in relative quiet.
Then my grandmother's oldest sister and her daughter who is like Mom's older sister arrived at our house, and their presence was a huge comfort to my mother. They bought us all pizza (the first of several pizza dinners in the weeks to follow) and were able to stay home with my grandfather when Mom and I went to pick up my aunt from the airport. The weekend was bearable thanks to the busyness and excellent company and a general pouring in of sympathy in the form of food, understanding, and prayers.
We're still eating on the food, by the way. And thriving on the prayers we're still receiving.
Then the following Monday, we had a visitation-type gathering at my church, hosted by my wonderful church choir family.
All day was rather stressful-- taking care of everything that had to be done for that evening, and the gathering was small, but enjoyable, and it served its purpose. I missed rehearsal for the show I'm currently in, even though I'd wanted to try to show up late so as not to get behind.
Initially, once we'd cleaned up at church, I really wanted to skip rehearsal and go to eat at Logan's with everybody else, but once I got there, I'd changed my mind.
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