This past weekend we said goodbye to the last of my grandparents. Margo was ninety-two and had a variety of health conditions. Her situation took a turn for the worst late last week, and she and our family made the decision that hospice care was necessary. We visited her in the hospital on Friday to say our final goodbyes and early Saturday morning she passed away peacefully in her sleep. These things are never easy. She has always been here in my life since I was born, and even since my mother was born, obviously, but now she isn’t here. There’s another phone number in my phone now that, when I call it, will never be answered by someone I love. There are no more stories to hear from her, and no more memories to be made.
A few months ago, around the passing of a friend, I was speaking with someone who is about my age. We were discussing many of the things that a person who lives a “long life,” such as my grandma, would have experienced. From being raised in a post-depression home, to the attack on Pearl Harbor, World War II, the attack of September 11, and all the wars in between. There would be so many highs and lows economically, politically, and even personally. The young woman that I spoke with commented on how amazing it would be to live that long. I thought about it for a bit, then told her that I used to think the same way, but now, I’m not so sure. Yes, there are great achievements and advancements to be witnessed during a long life. There are so many births, graduations, and marriages as the family continues to grow with each generation. But there are also the hard partings as we see loved ones, both family and friends, passing away too.
As I stand here now, nearly half the age of my grandmother, I remember each of the lives and also the passings of my other grandparents. I remember others too who have also passed away during this first half of my life, and I feel the loss building inside. It’s like there’s an internal balance scale, and with each loss the weight shifts towards a longing to be in heaven with those I love. With each loved one that moves on, this life and my internal, personal grasp on it, has begun to weaken. I wonder, with so many who are going on before me, if this is all part of preparing us to leave this world. As wonderful as long life may seem to be, is there a point at which it becomes burdensome? Certainly, stress and difficulties with health can take much of the “shine” off of life, but even if those were not involved, does loss alone erode us down to the point that we are ready to die? To me right now, this seems quite possible.
As hard as it was to say goodbye to Grandma, I also feel somewhat numb to the loss. We lost Hannah at a point in her life where nothing seemed to be appropriate in seeing her pass on. The devastation that I feel inside from that significantly minimizes any and all “normal” human partings. I know the health concerns that Grandma has been facing for so long. I know the nature of this latest situation, and I also have the blessing of knowing that she was “ready” for this to happen, and she made that clear again last week. She did live a “long life,” she has seen two husbands and many others pass on before her, and on some level, we all understand that this is “the way of life.” It’s never pleasant or easy, but it is expected and it is easier to understand and accept. Losing Hannah does not minimize the significance of losing my grandma, but it does minimize some of the pain. Again, because this situation is easier to understand and accept as being the typical, expected, and unfortunately the “normal” pattern for life. I hope that I have been able to share this latest experience of our loss with honesty and clarity.
We miss all those who we have lost, and we look forward to being reunited with them again someday. But until then we appreciate those who are still in our lives down here and we continue to live out the lives that we are intended to live.
We are blessed
Hannah Helps 