A Death Vigil

You might have guessed by the title of this post that it is a little on the morbid side. That warning being given, I don't believe that discussions of death need always be considered "morbid", if the discussion is treated with dignity and respect. I hope that what follows is read in the way that I mean it to be: with the utmost of respect.

My grandmother is dying.

She is 88, in acute liver failure, and has had a multitude of lifelong health problems. At this time she is barely conscious and only minimally responsive (at times). Although they tell us she is in no pain, it is clear that she is suffering from discomfort, restlessness, anxiety, and the itchiness that comes from the jaundice her liver failure has caused.

We have been keeping a 24-hour vigil by her side since last Thursday. My shifts are from 7 pm to midnight. In the long hours sitting in silence by her side, listening to the clock tick off the minutes left in her life, I have had a lot of time to think about her, her life, and our relationship.

Ruby Mae, otherwise known as Mamaw, is a most colorful character, although you wouldn't know it just to look at her. She suffered polio as a child and was permanently crippled. She has never danced a step in her life. She has always said the first thing she wants in heaven is a pair of high heels. We intend to place the tallest pair of heels we can find, red of course, in her casket.

Her husband, my Papaw, died 14 years ago. My fondest memories of them together are sitting in their living room listening to them talk over each other (and that infernally loud TV, due to Papaw's hearing loss) in two entirely different conversations, both of which you were expected to keep up with. I spent many nights with her. She would pull out the trundle under her daybed and give me caramel popcorn for dinner. She liked to listen to talk radio at night and I can remember many nights lying awake listening to it with her. She once took care of me for an extended period of time when my sister was very ill, and she bought me a Happy Meal every night. I thought I was in heaven.

More recently it has been a joy to peek through the scrapbook she put together in high school, and see the keepsakes of a beautiful and popular girl. It seems she made the keynote speech at every banquet, prom, and graduation there was in her high school years! She had many beaus and lots of friends.

Mamaw has always had an extraordinarily sly sense humor, being able to very quietly and very casually pop in humorous comments all the while pretending to be innocent. She occasionally has a potty mouth (this is where I get it from). At the same time she is most definitely the spiritual matriarch of our family, and no one who knows her has any doubt that she is headed directly to heaven.

It seems strange, these last few days, to know she is near death and will soon be gone, and yet be with her still. While I watch her sleep, I wonder if she is dreaming of her days as a young girl, of her siblings who are all long gone, of my Papaw, or of anything at all.  I think about my relationship with her: the words we have said and not said to each other, and I am glad to say I have no regrets. She loved me, and I knew it fully; I loved her, and I believe she knew it fully as well.

Standing guard over the last days and hours of her life has been emotionally and physically exhausting for us all, but none of us would choose any differently. My heart breaks for my cousin Angela, who by the circumstances of geography and advanced pregnancy can't be here with us. I miss her always, but now more than ever, and I wish to God she were here, as I know she does too. When I am with Mamaw I think often of Angela, and I hope that somehow Angela's love can be channeled through me so that Mamaw can feel it. My other cousins Becky and Kathy and Jason are far-flung as well, and I know their hearts are breaking too, that they are not here to share with us the honor of being with her in the end. I hope they all know that I stand guard in their honor as well, by proxy, as it were. 

My mom asked if I would be okay, if she were to die on my shift, while I am there with her alone. I believe I would be. My Papaw died suddenly, while I was hours away. I did not even get a chance to say a last goodbye to him. I feel fortunate to have this time with Mamaw, and I consider it an honor to be by her side in the last few days and hours of her life. If it so happens that I am present to witness the final breath she takes on earth, I will consider it a supreme honor, and I would only wish that I could be on the other side to witness her first breath in heaven. For I have no doubt that she will be greeted by the songs of angels, the smile of God, and the welcoming arms of Papaw and his great big guffaw. I can hear him now: "What took you so long?!"