An hour later, I went to go get some food with my cousin, Cliff. (Girls, why you haven’t snatched this one up is a complete mystery to me. He is rough on the outside, heart of gold on the inside and — for you shallow types — a hottie.) He’s one of the black sheep cousins I told you about — wants to go live in Florida and not into the religion that many of the family are encapsulated in. He and I will revisit many memories on our trip to the airport when it’s time for me to leave. I will also find out later that Grandma’s death will hit him pretty hard. Kevin and I had just talked a couple of days before that we suspected that he was a big ole softie.

Around 4 in the morning, we all went home to grab a few hours of sleep. I think Mom got 30 minutes before she was up and on her way back to the hospital. Kevin and I were a bit more out of it and got about 3 hours before we got up. As I was showering I could hear music from somewhere. It weirded me out a bit until I remembered that Kevin plays piano and was doing so on Grandma’s old family instrument. I think that was the first time I finally cried. The shower seems to be where I do my crying for some reason — don’t judge!

Kevin and I finally got ready to head back to the hospital. My flight was at 7:00 that night, but knew I had to get there early because Cliff was picking up his oldest sister who was getting in a couple of hours before I was to leave. I only had a few more hours with Grandma before my life started to intrude.

At this point, only two people were allowed back into Grandma’s room at a time so we were taking turns. Mom came out to tell me that Grandma was trying to get out of bed. Yes, with five or six tubes stuck in her and a ventilator stuck down her throat, she wanted to get up and out of there. She’s always been strong and, yes, stubborn. Mom had told me Grandma didn’t want to end up in the hospital like this. Didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Didn’t want people worrying about her. So she was bound and determined to get up and get home, dammit. It was my turn to go back. Aunt Delinda was back there and we got to witness first hand Grandma throwing her legs over the side of the bed and trying to sit up. Delinda was trying to get her to calm down, but none of the siblings had had any luck. I’m pretty sure Delinda was having a hard time with things so she left me there alone with Grandma for the first time since Friday.

She tried to get up one more time before the nurses finally realized that in the middle of giving her all her other medicines and nutrition, they had forgotten her sedative. I grabbed her hand and her shoulder and said, “Grandma, it’s Howard. Just lay back and relax. I’m here with you and there’s nothing to worry about”. That’s when she laid back and squeezed my hand and didn’t let go until the sedative took affect. I stood there for a good five minutes holding Grandma’s hand in complete silence. Finally. No family. No nurses. No doctors. Just me and Grandma and the snow falling outside. It was the last time she and I had any time together alone.

I was in such a deep trance that I didn’t hear my cousin, Jenny, creep up behind me and gently touch my shoulder which, of course, scared the crap out of me. The spell was broken and I felt heartbroken and lonely. I went out to spend some time with my mom as the minutes ticked by before I had to leave. I talked to Cameron finally which help enormously as well. But as time is wont to do, it continually moved forward and it was getting closer to Cliff showing back up and taking me away from a part of my family I was only just beginning to rediscover.

I went back in to say goodbye to Grandma, but the nurses were back scampering around like ants and, I think, Jenny was still there. I couldn’t say it. Not with all these people around. I kept waiting and wanting for, at least, the nurses to leave. Why didn’t I just do these when I was alone with her? Cliff was there suddenly. Where did he come from? Why was everyone there just then? I finally mustered up the courage to kiss Grandma on the forehead again (I have no idea how many times I did that) and simply said goodbye to her. It finally struck me that I had said everything when I grabbed her hand and held it until she slipped into unconsciousness. Instead of being on the verge of tears, I walked out of ICU feeling happy, content and full of closure. I wouldn’t be there when she escaped this world nor would I be there for her service, but that was just fine. I got to say goodbye to the woman. The woman that had been a pillar of support for my mom. The woman who had in turn relied on my mom for help. In that one hand holding, I got to say everything.

The rest of the trip is still a blur. Cliff driving like a maniac in the slushy snow to the airport even while we were laughing at memories. Seeing Cherstin, Cliff’s oldest sister, before I went back to my gate. Flying through some bumpy storms over Utah and Colorado. The joy of seeing Cameron waiting for me at luggage return. I was tired. I can’t remember being so tired. I dropped Cameron off at his place and went home to get some rest, but I wasn’t going to get much sleep that night. Mom called. She was heading back to the hospital. Grandma’s heart had started racing again and this time they were going to start taking her off all of the life-support machinery. It was time for her to leave…