Exceptional The love of a mother, or grandmother out lives all. Remembering Grandma by Quoiky

We all remember Grandma, but our recollections seem to vary and we tend to put emphasis on those things we feel are most pleasant and/or important to us. The last night of Grandma's life, I stayed with her and comforted her as best I could. I stayed - not for recognition, not for the coveted pat on the back, but for my own selfish reasons; I just wanted to spend time with her. She faded in and out of consciousness, and in the span between coherent recognition and vast emptiness, between twilight awareness and totally faded black, between lingering pain and death, her concern was always for the welfare of her family. She became more and more incoherent as the evening hours passed, and her muffled groans became less and less frequent. She teetered at the edge of finality, as if not quite ready to say 'goodbye'. With unsureness in her voice, she called..."Momma?...Daddy?'. Then her face lit up as if illuminated by a spotlight, and a huge smile spread across her dry, cracked, unpolished lips. She called for her husband and her children individually, and asked if he or she was all right. I rubbed her arm and combed my fingers through her soft white hair. I tried to reassure her, but I didn't know if she was even aware of my presence. In a moment of awareness, she looked directly into my eyes and said, matter-of-factly..."Now, you take care of Chuck!"...her son, my husband. That was some good advice. Advice that makes you cry from its simplicity and beauty. Advice that makes you think in black and white. Advice that a dying mother gives to her daughter. In a voice that was no longer questioning, she repeated..."Momma!...Daddy!"... And a quiet peacefulness seemed to envelope her, soothe, and comfort her. Now, Grandma was ready. We miss you Grandma, a little more every day. jjs. 2007 Author Notes My mother in law was a very special person. She loved and was loved by everyone who knew her.

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