A wide heart.
Say what you need to say, say what you need to say.....
'Say' - John Mayer
It's been over a month since the nightmare worsened, and two months since the beginning, and only now have I decided to post more thoughts. There have been many good times in the interim, ones that I'll likely write about later, but it was getting over this roadblock that kept me silent. I've had this file open on my computer for weeks, but just couldn't figure out how to finish it. Finally I just said to hell with it and put up what I had...
So here is part two.
On the evening of Christmas, as I spent the last half of the holiday with Grandma Cathy and Grandpa Win, and that side of the family, a question was posed to me. What are you going to do when Grandma [Marilyn] finally goes? I said that I would probably curl up into a ball and just cry. I then said I was changing the topic as that was not something I wished to discuss at that moment. Not long after that I had a talk with Mom about the inevitable conversation we would have with her. There have been two occasions where in bouts of depression, I would step in and talk to Grandma, which always changed her attitude for the better. However I knew that eventually the conversation would turn from 'It's not your time' to 'Do what you need to do.' We never finished that conversation, but I suppose it wasn't necessary in the end.
I had gone down to Longview to strong-arm the hospital into giving me medical records and billing information in a timely fashion, rather than the seven to ten business days they claimed necessary. I didn't tell anyone I was coming down that day, figured everyone would be around and I'd just get over there when I was done. As it would turn out that evening, everyone else was at the hospital too, finding out that Grandma had been diagnosed with cancer. When Grandpa told me that night I simply broke down yet again in his arms, and then headed to the hospital. She was asleep then, so I headed back to Seattle, prepared to see her on Saturday. This went exactly as planned, and I spent a fantastic Saturday back down there. Grandma was in surprisingly good spirits and had a good amount of energy. I didn't know what the coming weeks would bring as we prepared to find out the extent of the disease, but I knew that one way or another, we could try and make it a happy time for her. Twenty-four hours later I would realize that we didn't have nearly that much time.
On Sunday night, right after being out to dinner with Hetty, Randy, Zach, Nick, and Carly, I received the phone call that would bring me right back to Longview. Things were accelerating quickly, and now Grandma was in the ICU. Only slightly more than two hours later I was standing in her room beginning the conversation that not nearly enough people get to have with their loved ones before losing them. At this point, while it was still possible that her current condition may go on for a while, I knew down to my core that this was goodbye. We said repeatedly that we loved each other. I said how there was a part of me that was afraid that I may be leaving something unsaid, but that as I thought more about it I knew that, like with Mom, we both had always laid everything out there. No regrets. She told me that I was her precious, which she has called me as long as I can remember, and I told her she was my precious too.
Later that day she was moved to the Community Hospice center, where they did what was necessary to make her comfortable. After staying there for a few hours, I had a conversation with the head nurse to ask what we might expect the next bit of time to be like. I was told that the first step was to get the medication out of her system so she could be as close to normal as one can be. From there it would be a waiting game. Since we didn't expect the medicine to wear off for a while, I intended to return to Seattle briefly to get some things and pick up Jessica. I stopped by the house to say bye to Grandpa and Uncle Jerry, and planned to leave then. After grabbing a couple things and sharing a drink and some stories, I got another phone call. It was T.T., telling me to get back there immediately. I got everyone into the car and we headed back. As it turned out, she waited for us. It meant that I got to have another moment, that like our talk, will stick with me forever. As her breathing continued slowing, I grabbed her hand and held it. At that moment, it seemed that it was only right that the person that was right there to greet me when I came into the world should have me holding her hand as she left it.
Many of us stayed in the room for a while, absorbing the loss and comforting each other. As we all slowly left, I got ready to return to Seattle as originally planned. However one matter remained. I had a hunch the conversation would come, but didn't know when. As I took Grandpa home, he asked me if I would again stand in front of everyone and deliver a eulogy. I'd already started those thoughts in my head because I knew I'd need to ever since the phone call. After that I returned to Seattle, picked up Jessica, gathered my things, and fell quickly to sleep, my original plan of returning that night thrown out the window due to sheer exhaustion. We got back the next morning to begin the process all over again. However by the time I returned, the funeral was planned, the obituary delivered, and all that was left was the grieving. Over the next few days as family came and went, I kept trying to write. I was surprised to find how different it was this time. One has a much different perspective when they have only been part a person's life for a relatively small percentage of it. Trying to distill the 75 years and many lives she led into something fitting posed a considerable challenge. I can only hope that my words helped, even if only in a small way.
I think for now I'm just going to leave it at that. Like I said, I had this sitting on my computer for weeks, not sure how to finish. Perhaps that's because none of this can be finished. One simply goes on, some good days, some bad. You know that there are times where out of nowhere, you will start crying uncontrollably. Other times you will just laugh and smile. Here and there one can even be angry. In my mind though, as long as those smiles and laughs make up the majority, then the rest is easy.
Marilyn Rae Davis
July 25, 1933 - February 23, 2009
