I struggled with myself about writing this post, but when something is consuming you, you have to do something about it, so I apologize in advance for bringing the tone down, but it does fit with our theme.
Hospice is wonderful. Tells you where I'm going, doesn't it?
The people who work in hospice, as far as I'm concerned, are angels on earth. My grandmother, all 90 years and a few weeks of her, is under their care right now and, as I write this, still hanging on. (I've never heard of hospice calling it wrong, but they did on Saturday when we all went driving to the home and my grandmother pulled through!)
Ninety years is a long time to live. I get that. But this is the woman who taught me to bake cookies. Taught me to sew. Has been my biggest champion and one of the toughest women you'll ever meet. She smoked for fifty years and only got lung cancer 20 years AFTER she stopped smoking - and she stopped smoking with one, count 'em: one, visit to a hypnotherapist. She would bake Easter bread for everyone, labor-intensive loaves that she got up at oh-ungodly-thirty every year to make. She made pizzelles, another labor-intensive baking item that she loved making for the family. For many years we did the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve at her house. She's outlived all of her siblings and all her in-laws except one (but sadly, Uncle Charlie isn't aware that he's still here; she is).
Just the other day, she wanted to call her sisters and tell them she lived longer than they did. You see the kind of woman we're dealing with.
So it is a bittersweet ending. A life well-lived, but a woman I'll have a tough time saying goodbye to.
But I kind of have to: my grandfather has been meandering around heaven for the last 20 years and needs her to tell him what he's supposed to do next.
Love you, Nan!
I'll try to check in and comment, but as the end could be any time, you might not hear from me. Wishing everyone a happy, healthy, and loved-one oriented holiday season!