At this point in the story, I really don’t have details. Just stories I’ve been told. Mom and I called each other over the next few hours to check in. The last thing they removed from Grandma was the ventilator about 4 Monday morning and she hung in there. See? Stubborn. I called Mom around 10 and she was still with us — still fighting. Then I got a call around 2 or 2:30. I looked at the caller ID and when I saw it was Mom, I knew it was to finally tell me that she had died. Mom was holding up like a trouper even while breaking into occasionally sobs. I’ve been told that losing a parent is hard, but I would argue it’s just as hard to hear your parent mourning the loss of their parent. It was almost as bad as hearing my mom cry out in anguish when Grandpa died in ‘85.

Mom told me that at the end, Grandma opened her eyes and kept staring at the ceiling as if she was seeing something they couldn’t. She finally told Grandma that Grandpa was there to get her and that it was time to go. Mom told me that Grandma took three deep breathes (she then acted those breathes out over the phone which put my heart through the shredder) and then she slipped away placidly. Mom and I talked later and agreed that it was better this way. Stomach cancer is one of most painful of the disease and Grandma hadn’t even begun to feel the worst of it.

That night some of the family went out to dinner when Mom spotted the ICU doctor from Saturday night out with his kids. I heard from Kevin that Mom told him that Grandma had passed away and how grateful the family was for his help and compassion. He soon left with his kids. Later, they found out why. He had payed for the entire family’s meal and left without saying a thing. Kevin said he was shocked to find someone so generous. I told him that they are out there, you just have to dig them out from under all the garbage.

The rest of the week was filled with phone calls to people making sure they were getting by and hearing the plans for Grandma’s service. It sounded like it was a variety show, which doesn’t surprise me. Donnie and Marie had one for three years so it’s just in the Mormon blood. (Thank you, I’ll be here all night!) The children were going to tell stories. The grandchildren were going to sing. Kevin was going to play piano. I’m sure the service lasted for a couple of hours.

The funny thing was the flowers Grandma received. They were coming in from all over. So many in fact, that she was moved into the biggest room in the church just to accommodate her arrangements. It was so bad that Mom said she could only go in for a few minutes before her hay fever kicked her out. Oh, and there was a bird that got into Grandma’s house and attacked Mom who claimed it was Grandma telling her to get the house cleaned up before guests started to come over.

Kevin lamented to me at one point that he wished I was there for the service. I wish I could have been there, too, to lend support. He said he was really nervous about playing. I told him that I’d be there in spirit and, if it helped, to imagine me on the piano in a fabulous red dress a la Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys. He told me that he told my cousin, Stacy, this right before he started to play (she was turning pages for him), but they did as promised: they held back their laughter for the sanctity of the service.

I did get a keepsake. I’m not one to take things, but I figured it was something no one would miss. The night Grandma went into the hospital I made some toast and cereal for dinner and, while I was trying to stay out of the way of my Aunts, Uncle and Mom, I found the bread twisty tie that I had taken off the loaf and put aside. I wrapped it around my pinky finger and wore it until I got home. It’s now sitting on my desk surrounding the remembrance stone I got from Miss Lily’s ceremony. Both of these are sitting next to the stone I grabbed from Matt & Leslie’s wedding on Leap Day. All of which reminds me that I don’t need material things to remember those I love. Just little tokens. Even a wire wrapped in paper can remind me of the love that is taught and passed down through generations.

P.S. I am getting Grandma’s toaster because I told her it was so cool.

Listening to: “This Is Love” - George Harrison

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…

That night I witnessed something I haven’t since I was kid — a family prayer. I’m not religious at all. Never really have been, so witnessing this brought back a lot of memories both good and bad. There was even talk of a blessing - a ceremony where a few drops of virgin olive oil are poured on the head and members of the priesthood (only the males, by the way) become a conduit to God. This I witnessed in ICU a few hours later. In the meantime, Grandma couldn’t even walk with help to her own bed. We had to carry her. That was the most horrifying event of the entire weekend. Just the day before I was with her buying groceries and having a conversation.

My mom and her siblings decided that it was time to get her to the hospital. A smart choice, in my opinion, even though Grandma had specified that she wanted to die at home; however, Grandma was beyond our care at this point. An ambulance was called and we all ended up at the hospital. Grandma’s blood pressure had dropped so low that had she would have died a few hours later if we hadn’t transported her to the care of doctors. There was the fear of cardiac arrest, too, since her heart was working so hard to fight off all the infections it was discovered she had — another example of how Grandma didn’t want us worrying about her. They eventually stabilized her so she could move to ICU.

At this point, I have to tell you about an adorable second cousin I have named Christian. He’s 8-years-old. He and I are very similar in a way. He’s a comedian, too, and was instrumental in keeping the family laughing through this hard time. If I do say so, we made a formidable team in helping to keep things grounded and help our worried family members remain level-headed. I have got to share this joke he told in the Emergency Room waiting area that made me laugh so loudly the triage nurses looked to see what was going on:

There’s this woman on a street corner doing jumping jacks saying, “24! 24! 24!” [Christian is actually doing the jumping jacks with the joke in the middle of the waiting room, btw.] Suddenly, a blond guy walks up to her and asks to join in because it looks like fun. She says, “Sure!”. So there they are on the street corner, doing jumping jacks and repeating, “24! 24! 24!”. Suddenly a semi-truck jumps the corner and hits the blond guy killing him dead. The woman starts doing jumping jacks again shouting, “25! 25! 25!”

It was soon after that Grandma was taken up to ICU. In the darken waiting room, the ICU doctor told the family what our choices were. It was decided to not attempt any ‘heroic’ measure to resuscitate Grandma should she go into cardiac arrest due to the damage the attempt would do to her body. It’s at this point that we were told that there wasn’t much chance at all of her coming out of it due to the infections and her heart rate. They then let all the family that was there come into the room. I won’t lie. I found the experience fascinating as well as harrowing. She was hooked up to more drips and machines than I’ve even seen on TV. We were allowed to do the blessing at this point.

As I said earlier, I’m not a religious person meaning organized religion does nothing for me. I try to be a decent human being and that’s about as spiritual as I get; however, the blessing was quite moving. Call it God. Call it positive thought. Call it what you will, but there was definitely energy in that room. Uncle Lannie started it, but seemed unable to continue due to his emotional state, so Uncle Martin took over. Both blessings were beautiful even if Lannie’s was brief. Here’s what got to me. It wasn’t the evangelical, bring-the-thunder, in-a-tent blessing. No one asked God to make her better. No one invoke a spirit to remove the cancer. It was the most beautiful facing of the truth I have witnessed. No one was begging for Grandma to live. All they asked was that when it was her time that she go peacefully. I was quite proud at that moment to be related to these brave people who faced death unafraid…

This post got to be really long, so I’m cutting it up over the next few days. In fact, I’m not even done with it yet, but am tired of sitting on it as if it’s time to move on.

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My trip to Utah to see my grandmother from Feb 20 - 23 was certainly an exercise in juxtaposition. I arrived Thursday afternoon to be greeted by my mother, my grandmother and my uncle. My Uncle Kevin is difficult to look at and say “Uncle Kevin”. He is a little less than two years older than me which is what you get when you’re the oldest grandchild. I have an uncle on my dad’s side who is only 1-1/2 years older than me. The way Kevin and I interact, we might as well just be siblings with all the fun-poking and put-downs being tossed around.

So there I was in the middle of Mormonland thinking I’m going to get a home-cooked meal from Grandma and Mom, right? Wrong. We ended up at Hometown Buffet with everyone grabbing those coupon books that schools sale trying to save 50% on every other meal. (That’s Mom in the picture on the right holding up some of the great cuisine.) All I could stomach there was a salad and a big ole pile of mashed potatoes. Even the fruit was tasteless which had nothing to do with being sick — the honeydew and the cantaloupe literally had no flavor.

The next day would be the last I spent with Grandma while she was lucid. It was Mom’s moving day, but she didn’t want me out in the cold with the crap-tastic cough I had, so I got to babysit Grandma, who was all for spending the day with me and even wanted to go to the grocery store (that’s her to the left. One of the last pictures taken of her.) to pick up some items for stew which was to be served when many, many members of the family came over (remember, we’re Mormon, so there is LOTS of family). I escorted her from and to the car, but otherwise she did quite well getting around on her own. When we got home, she started to chopping up vegetables and beef — something Mom said she hadn’t done in a long time.

Afterwards, she and I watched “The Price Is Right” and a bunch of The Food Channel together while she rested. I wish I felt better, but am glad for the time with her without anyone else around. She told me at least five times how excited she was to have me there and how much she loved me. I was embarrassed by this somewhat, but now wonder if she knew what was coming. That night I was reacquainted with several cousins, a couple who are ‘black sheep’ like me so we hit it off famously. Grandma even came downstairs to sit with us for a while telling stories yet it was evident that the day’s excursions were taking their toll on her and she soon wanted to go to bed.

The next morning (Saturday) she couldn’t get out of bed on her own. The hospice nurse was called. Grandma’s regular nurse was on vacation, so we got the on-call nurse. The woman was amazing and went well above her calling spending Saturday night with us until 4:30 in the morning on Sunday at the hospital, helping the family understand what the doctors were saying and even asking if she could come to the service, which was Saturday. Of course, the family emphatically said yes. I believe her name is Nicolle.

Anyway, Nicolle determined that Grandma had pneumonia in one lung and probably had had it for at least two days. She was X-rayed and started on antibiotics. She had one more burst of energy around lunch while Kevin and I were out getting supplies for Mom’s new apartment. Grandma wanted a shower, so Mom helped her and then she went back to her recliner. We never got another coherent thought out of her…

Listening to: “Can’t Help Falling In Love” - Elvis Presley