I lay back on the lazy boy chair next to Gram, with my hand on hers and close my eyes. The chair leans all the way back and I position it to the same height as Gram's bed, right next to me. I can hear the creek outside of her window, it is peaceful and reassuring. I imagine that it flows beyond where I or anyone on this earth can see, perhaps a path for Gram and others. Up until a few days ago, Gram would look outside and say, "it's so still, nothing is moving, it's so still". Often there was a breeze and I could see the tall grass in the fields outside swaying gently and the daisies and potentilla would quietly dance with the breeze; to her it was still. On a clear day if I look west I can see the mountains. It is breathtakingly beautiful. I cannot imagine a more lovely place to transition from this world to beyond.
It has been a week since Gram was moved here. When we arrived at the hospice the nurse got us all settled and smiled at Gram and said, "welcome home". For a few days Gram had enough energy to drink a small smoothie in a day and to stay awake long enough to have a conversation. She would smile at the little kids when we brought them in for a visit and then drift back to sleep. With the help of the nurses we could move her into a wheel chair and take her for a walk outside making our way around the creek and through the garden, we could even sneak a raspberry or saskatoon berry for her. The past two days have left her still, like the stillness she sees outside. She cannot drink anymore and has no energy to open her eyes. She knows we are here, I know that she knows.
Her breathing has changed, it is heavy and slow. Her color is gone, I have not seen anyone so pale. I notice that her eyes are unable to close completely now. For the past week we have managed to have her off all drugs, she needed nothing but our company, some water and a few sips of smoothie. Over the past few days we have watched as she grimaces when she is moved, her slight body no longer able to handle this without a little pain relief. The nurses here are tender and caring. They brush her hair, hold her hand and treat her with such kindness. She has said many times this week, "I am fortunate". Today it is I who feels fortunate. The past few weeks, sitting with her has brought my family closer than I could have imagined. We have held each other while the other cries and then switched over, allowing the other to be strong while we each take our turn to feel and to let go. I have had conversations with my mother that I don't know if we would ever have had if not for this time together. I have laughed and cried with my sister as we remember our funny Gram stories. I have watched, first hand, a little frail 87 year old woman fight to stay alive. Her will has amazed even the medical staff.
I have wondered over the past two days, why are you holding on Gram? Your body is shutting down but still you hang on. Today however I see her surrender. I know that we don't have long before she follows the creeks path beyond. I look out her window today and smile at her room with a view. One of Gram's favourite movies was, A room with a view. My mother and Aunt watched it years ago at Gram's recommendation and said they could hardly stay awake! Now it's my turn.
It is difficult for us to surrender and realize that we cannot control everything. We cannot set a time or predict how the story will end. It seems to go against all that this busy non stop world we live in has taught us. This journey is one that only she can control and maybe not even her? So tonight I have the movie ready to go on my laptop and I will snuggle up beside her and imagine us in Italy and England, along side Lucy Honeychurch. I let go of all expectations, worries and sadness and just be and enjoy our room with a view.
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