The Statement Was....

In Loving Memory of my Grandmother who passed away on December 20, 2010.

Was it wrong of me to think that they didn't deserve the time they got? Was it wrong for me to be angry that they decided not to come As Soon As Possible? I stood in the hospital, beside her bed. I held her hand, laughed with her, and talked with her. I heard the last words that escaped her lips before her mouth was bound by the oxygen she needed to survive. Her last words to me, to us, to my family, were "Be careful. I love you", and she told us how proud of us she was; told us how proud our grandfather was of us before he passed away 8 months prior. There was no way I could hold anything against her, no matter how critical she could be at times. The only grandmother in my life who cared for me, sent me birthday cards, visited on holidays, spent every Christmas with me, and always allowed me to open up. They didn't come when they should have. They didn't get to hear her last words or see her when her eyes were fully open, when she was truly herself.

I think they missed out, they were pathetic, and I think they were inconsiderate. Him in particular, with no idea how much she suffered, and no idea how much she cried over him not being beside her. We went through it all with her and we were her crutch for the longest time. Even if the crutch broke from time to time, it was always taped back together to make sure it was sturdy for her fragile body. Was it wrong of me to secretly wish they'd just leave since they already missed her final words? Bringing her home to fulfill her personal wish was the promise we made. That promise was something we had to keep, something we had to give to her, because she wanted to pass away in the comfort of her own home. As soon as she saw her multi-colored Christmas tree when she briefly opened her eyes, a large smile had spread across her face, and my mother cried. How can someone's tears be so continuous when there is only so much water in the human body? We stayed as long as possible, as long as we wanted to, as long as we could continue to hold her hand. I was crouched down beside the hospital bed, on my knees in a tight space, holding onto her hand and refusing to let go even if my legs went numb. Her breathing was getting worse, going down to ten breaths a minute, probably ready to drop at a steady rate from there. The necklace that my sister had gotten her for Christmas, a green and silver hummingbird (She loved hummingbirds), was against her neck, the thin chain sparkling against her pale skin. The medical care who came every night always told us her condition, always told us she didn't have much longer to live. I remember it so potently in my mind, leaning over her and crying, having my moments with her with my family. They were watching, sitting on the steps behind us, watching us cry and speak to her. Even though we gave them their time as well, they probably didn't deserve it. I had come to the conclusion on my own that they didn't do nearly as much, especially after my grandfather passed away. They still won't do anything, and all they want to do is sell the house and all of the belongings that hold so much sentimental value.

"Mom, it's okay, you can let go. You don't have to keep fighting. Dad is waiting for you. Carie is waiting for you there... It's okay... I love you Mom. We love you so much." My mom's words were strong even though they trembled from her tears as she leaned close to my grandma and hugged her close. Carie, the aunt I would have had if she didn't die at 15. There were so many emotions that I felt that day, the last day I was allowed to be with her. There was a poem I never got to read to her and I regret so much. To this day, I cry when I think about it. When I hear a song on the radio that even relates to my feelings of that day, I can't stop the water that streams down my cheeks. When I look at the necklace that was hers and was given to me, a ruby, my birthstone, centered in the middle, I feel my lips pull down and quiver to try to prevent the tears. It was her time, but I don't think anyone else was ready but her.

The statement was... "Time will heal all wounds", and I answered "False".

This is the story, kind of summarized, of my Grandma's death and how much time we spent with her. I wanted to write a personal experience story and express my thoughts and emotions at the time. Cancer contributed to her death, and to this day I support the fight against it.

Also in loving memory of my Grandfather who passed away on April 25, 2010.

Thank you.