December 30, 2010, I got a call from my Aunt Sue. My paternal grandmother, Grammy Meg, who had been very sick from lung cancer, was very close to dying. Basically, if I wanted to say good bye to her, I had to get to the nursing home, STAT! After almost 4 agonizing days of watching my Grammy slowly slip away, she was finally at peace at 4:05pm on January 2, 1011. I was in the room with her, as was my step-mother Judy.
I cried. I didn’t all out, can’t breathe, snot running down my face, uncontrollable sobbing, cry. I did cry though. Then, I stayed out of the room. I even asked my dad to go back in and grab my purse and coat. My sister Julie and my brother in law Eric didn’t want to go home, and even though I wanted to be alone and mourn my Grammy, I didn’t want to make them go home when they really didn’t want to, so I invited them over. I went to bed way later than I should have, and never really got to “cry it out”. The next few days seemed to go in a similar direction.
Three days later was the wake. Jon accompanied me to Mercadante Funeral Home. I walked in, but didn’t go to see my Grammy resting in her coffin. I didn’t want to go up there in front of everyone. After everyone came through and gave us their condolences, my family left and I went up to say good bye to a woman who meant so much to me. I brought Julie home with me. Eric and Jon had left a little early and met us at my house. They left pretty late, and I had to go to bed as soon as they did because we had to get up early for the funeral.
The next morning, I packed Jillie in my car and drove back to Mercadante to wait in line for the funeral procession. For those of you reading this who have never done this, when you get back to the funeral, the casket is usually still open (permitted it was an open casket wake), and people may say any final good-byes. I tried to keep Jillie in the hallway, since I wasn’t sure about letting my little 4 year old see a dead body. She insisted that she go in, however. She wanted to say goodbye to her Great Grammy Meg. After a little while of unsuccessfully trying to persuade her otherwise, we went up to the casket.
Jillie looked in at her great grandmother, told her she would miss her, and said good bye. We went over to a chair and she snuggled on my lap for a few minutes until Jon got there. She walked up with my Aunt Sue and put a flower in the casket with Grammy Meg. She didn’t cry and kept herself together. I almost thought that maybe she didn’t quite understand what was going on.
When we got in the car to start the procession, Jillie and I had a conversation that I now feel compelled to share with you. Please keep in mind that Jillie and I had just been to visit my Grammy on Christmas Day.
Jillie: Uhm. Mommy? I have a question.
Me: Ok Sweetie, what’s your question?
Jillie: When Grammy Meg went to Heaven, did Jesus make her all better? Because Grammy didn’t look sick anymore…..
Me: Well Peanut, you could say that. Yeah. When you die and go to Heaven, it’s a very nice place where people aren’t sick or in pain.
I didn’t say our conversation was long. It was very profound though. I was thinking that she really didn’t get it because she didn’t seem to be very upset. In her own little way though, she made me feel better instead. I still haven’t “cried it out”. At this point though, I don’t think I will “cry it out”. I think deep down inside, I feel too happy to know that she is no longer suffering and in pain to be sad. It’s funny how it took my little Peanut to remind me of what I’ve believed my whole life. Death is not the end; it is the beginning of a new life in a better place. It is something I have to believe, considering all the people I have lost in my life.
I will leave this little advice behind though: “Life is short, make sure the people you love know it, because you never know when you won’t be able to tell them anymore.”
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