Letting people go

Jimmy’s grandma died on Wednesday. Bless her soul, at 93 she was still living on her own and self-caring; such a woman to admire, a mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. Early afternoon, she was weeding the garden in her yard when she collapsed, found by the neighbour who called for an ambulance that rushed her to the local hospital. With a heartbeat, and breathing, they tried to make her regain consciousness to no avail. Anna told me that she died how she (and probably most people) have ever wanted.... ‘you couldn’t have written a better script’. There was no riddling of cancer, or horrific accident, or slow hospitalised wasting away. Just a sudden bright flash, and a massive stroke, collapsing with a handful of weeds clutched in her palm. The doctors doubted if she even knew what was happening, the stroke was so severe it dominated her brain scans. Life support was switched off that evening, surrounded by the whole family.


And it got me thinking (as any death does) while I was standing by her side. She was such an institution in the family, and to see her entire family gathered around to grieve is possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed to date. It may sound strange to call such a spectacle ‘beautiful’, but these were people I had never seen cry before.... The shock of mortality had drawn everyone into a stunning web of love and support. The tears, while sad and longing, still spoke of a woman they all admired so much. In the waiting room, after the computers and life support systems went black and her heart beat began to fade away, there was laughter. They began to share stories about how strong she was, her uncanny character traits, and the fact that her Grandson, far away, was preparing to be a father for the first time, and grandma was simply making room for the next little addition to her kingdom, another great grandchild. They shared stories about her life, and how she chose this death, and they made plans to share the news with the world. Everyone was so organised amongst the grief. I wasn’t sure if it was because of her age (every extra year was a gift) or that was how they grieved, but I watched in wonder at this amazing family dynamic. The usually quiet family members took charge, the ‘rocks’ of the family broke down and let the pain go. And I wondered how my family would ever cope with such a thing.... time will, unfortunately, tell. I can only hope the passing of any of my eldest family members will be just as beautiful, surrounded by those you love, who can kiss your softened face goodbye, happy in the knowledge that there was no suffering, and only a celebration of life.

All my love Grandma Dot.

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