2004-04-06 - 8:16 p.m.

The time comes when you must put sorrow aside, let the simple moment be enough, no worry or sadness for what tomorrow may or may not hold, no misty eyed memories of the past just live in that exact moment and find the joy in it.

Today i did that, forget all the memories that have made a constant run through the synaptic terminals of my overactive mind these days. Forget the hours of flooding tears over weddings she won't attend and grandchildren she'll never know and boil it down to a simple moment.

We had one of our new "fights" ..no words this time, just the simple clinging to a tissue as if it were the last life vest on titanic. And suddenly you realize, until her last breath she will still be that stubborn, obstinant, frustrating, wonderful woman she's always been. She can barely form a sentance for fatigue, opening her eyes seems a painful chore and yet this darling woman has the audacity to play a game of hide the tissue so that her little treasure can't be stolen.

For years, she's had a problem with a tear duct in her eye. Hence gave rise to the ever present tissue or paper towel tucked inside the right hand pocket of whatever garment she wore that day. There would be a pocket and there would be a tissue, this was a constant in a world where the only thing constant is change.

And the change hasn't come yet. Maybe its her one little way to remind us that she's in control, that she still has some measure of independance regardless of what her failing body forces her to let others do for her.

And all i could do in that moment was laugh, and know, that somehow it was okay. And i sat down, promised her i wouldn't steal her tissue if she'd put it down and hold my hand, and she let go of it and offered me that soft familiar palm, one i've spent hours softly rubbing as of late, marvelling at the softness of her skin. And there, safe with my grandmother, perhaps for the last time, i fell asleep in her hold.

That's not to say there's not sadness and struggle left to come. No doubt that will still be tears to cry but for one sweet moment i'll never forget....i knew it was all okay.

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

—Harriet Beecher Stowe

I'm not sure i'm ready to be here writing this.

On Tuesday March 30, 2004 Frances Carr, one of the most amazing and wonderful people in my life, my Grandmother, suffered a massive stroke. On Monday April 5th we removed all life support as were her wishes. The next few days will be our final goodbyes to a woman which we all wish we did not have to let go of in life so soon.

She's 86 years old, if she hangs on to life until Saturday she'll be 87. She lived a long, good life. I think in some ways we all wish that the stroke had taken her in an easier manner. That the choices that have befallen us in the past few days were not ours to make and that her death had been quick, with no measure of suffering. But, she never did do anything the easy way. There were words remaining to be said, and in the past few days, even through garbled speech and a body that was failing her, she relayed her love to her family, she gave us the peace to accept her passing, she told us that she was reaching out to Grampy, 22 years since he left her in death and now she'll finally return to his side.

I don't think i would have chosen to spend the last days of her life taking care of her the way i have, changing her clothes, lovingly washing her frail body, but maybe she knew that i had to feel that i'd done all i could, that i needed those last little moments of doing all i could to care for her to feel okay. I don't know...all i know is that i don't want her to suffer anymore.

Someday there will be my wedding, her great grand children, so many things in my life that i wish she could be there for, but the memories and what she has accomplished in her astounding life won't be forgotten. And though her great grandchildren won't know the feel of her arms around them, i swear they will know of this amazing woman.

I'm not ready yet to face the thought that she won't be there in every day. That's too close, i'm just not ready yet for that.

For now, may we all find peace that her suffering ends, find sweet memories in a life well lived and the blessings of our time shared with her.

God's finger touched her, and she slept.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson