VOICES - Black Hawk College

The day after Valentine’s Day began the last hours of her life. After school,
in the late afternoon, my family and I got word that her breathing was very slow,
and she was unresponsive. Naturally, we thought this meant her death could be
soon, so we all sped across the river to the clean, new hospital that she was in.
The air outside was cold and bitter, and the sun was gone by the time we had
reached her room.
We all stayed in the hospital, not caring about the world outside or what we
had to do the next day, because we didn’t want to risk missing anything. In a
room far too little for a patient and nine anxious people. we were literally sitting
around, watching Grandma sleep, but we were utterly transfixed because we
were all standing on the edge of a life-changing moment, unsure when death
would sneak up on us. Every so often she would stir, but that was all. So many
times that night, we had all braced ourselves, grabbed one another’s hand, and
couldn’t stop the salty tears because we were sure that “this was it”. But it
wouldn’t be. God had better plans; more comforting, more peaceful plans.
Eventually, sleep got the better of us all. We each found a place; a little
waiting-room recliner that didn’t recline, or a little two person sofa next to a giant
fish tank. Grandma’s three sons, including my dad, snoozed as best as they
could in her room for what few hours of sleep we had that night. Pappy slept on
the floor. I can remember waking up from the cold air-conditioning, or the
uncomfortable position I was in, or realizing that I was drooling, and checking my
cell phone for the time. The hours crept by.
In the morning, I uncurled myself from my recliner and walked through the
halls by myself. One by one, we all woke up, and found some sustenance from
the hospitality kitchen at the hospital. And guess who was still sleeping, exactly
that same as we had left her a few hours earlier?
The sun had risen, signaling the beginning of a new day, but it seemed that
the painful night was still proceeding, just with light coming through the window
again. Gentle and caring nurses would come in and talk to us about the signs of
death, which gave me chills. At that point, all we were hoping for was a
resolution; peace, and no more suffering.
A cheerful parish nurse from Grandma’s church came in at about 8:30. She
gave us hugs, and tried to console our tired eyes and heavy hearts. She asked
us if she could read a Psalm out loud. She said that she knew Grandma would
have liked that. It’s true; my grandma was a kind, generous lady who had worked
hard her entire life and had tried to show Jesus to the people in her world. I know
that if she heard those words, she felt right at home. “Even if I climbed to the
highest heavens, You are there. If I make my bed in the depths of the ocean, You
are there….Still your hand will guide and protect me.” She read Psalm 139, her
gentle voice easily guiding us through the words which we knew as truth. What
happened next, I cannot convey with justice; but the moment was breathtaking
and heartbreaking. She said, “Amen.” And with a word symbolic of an ending in
this world, my grandma began her everlasting life in the next. She was gone.
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