Now I Lay me Down To Sleep

"NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP,
I PRAY THE LORD MY SOUL TO KEEP.
IF I SHOULD DIE BEFORE I WAKE,
I PRAY THE LORD MY SOUL TO TAKE."

I pretty much always fall asleep on the couch downstairs in our family room.  Like clockwork, every night after the hustle and bustle of the day has faded away, my heavy eyelids begin to droop shut as my body struggles to take in any more information.  Given that as my routine, I don't often get in my own nighttime prayers aside from the ones said with the children at bed time.  But Friday night as I submitted to the succumbing of sweet slumber, I heard this prayer play in my head.  My grandmother used to always recite it when I was a young girl.  But she would toss in an extra personalized line as well - "As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.  And please watch after Sox, he's been a good dog."  So I said the same prayer in my head once more, except this time, asking God to please watch over Ori - she's been a... NOT bad puppy. ;)
Saturday was supposed to be a gorgeous day and we thought about going back to the zoo.  We were just there last weekend and had gotten a season family pass.  But it was gloomy and rainy out.  That morning I exchanged a few messages with my Dad and he invited us over to the Moose to visit with him and my step-mom and little brother - they were grilling burgers.  There were a couple giant mooseheads on the walls and "Unkka Lake" offered to pick up the boys so they could pet it.

We joked that it ran through the kitchen and barreled through the wall and now he was stuck!  But we couldn't find his rear end in the kitchen.  Joel had made an incredible observation - "Moose eyes broken?"  And I immediately felted pressed to tell him "Yea, that's cuz he's dead buddy." My little brother chuckled at my bluntness and honesty.  I went on to explain, "That's just his body now.  The part that makes him animated and move around, that parts still alive somewhere, but this part is just his body and his body is dead so that's why his eyes are broken."
45 minutes later my cell phone rang.  It was my mom.  My mom generally exclusively texts, so my spidey senses tingled.  I answered with hesitation.  She asked if I had a minute.  I knew why.
"Can I leave the boys here for a bit?  Its not looking good...I need to go say my goodbyes to Grandma."
Tears streamed down my face the entire way to the Rehab Facility.  I prayed for the right words to say.  I prayed that there was somehow I could ease her fear.  As a Spiritualist it is my FACT that life continues after the change called death. - confirmed for me over these past 4 years too many times to count.  As a human being discovering the world for herself, it is my fact and conclusion that we can come back (reincarnate) numerous times to experience, expand and grow our soul/consciousness.  As a growing Christian it is my fact that Jesus is the Son of God and The Way into the Kingdom.  I prayed that she knew Jesus.  I prayed repentance for her sins.  I prayed for the words to explain all of this to my scared, dying grandmother.  I prayed for her comfort.  I prayed for her peace.

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I arrived, entered, and made the 3 turns to my grandmother's room.  All the while avoiding eye contact with every person that I would normally otherwise cheerfully greet with a friendly, "Hi Neighbor!" said in unison with two tiny twin voices.  To my surprise she was 'sitting up' in her wheelchair....sleeping?  resting?  breathing?  Barely.  I was tempted to pull out a tiny compact mirror and place it under her nose to see if condensation formed to be certain she was breathing, the way she had done for me umpteen times as an infant.  She was hunched over, pillows stuffed all around her to prop her up, and coddling a small plushy puppy that she kept the Call Button tied around.  She didn't have her teeth in, so her face kind of resembled a tiny shrunken head doll, and without any barrier to hold it back, he tip of her tongue slightly protruded her parted pout, attempting to escape from her mouth.  Her snow white hair was tied back into a pony tail.  She looked weak.  Vulnerable. Disheveled.  Helpless.  And to me, she had never looked more beautiful in all my life than she did in this very moment.  She looked like a child,  Her body obviously aged a generous 87 years, but all I could see was a perfect Child of God.  She was astoundingly adorable.  Precious.  I wanted to take a picture to capture the beauty I saw, but respectfully chose not to.  Instead I sat beside her and soaked up every wrinkle and every stray hair and ingrained it into my memory forever.

I couldn't bring myself to wake her.  But I most certainly was not leaving.  So I sat there beside her.  WITH her.  It was cold, And silent- with the exception of the brief interruption made by the sharp inhale/soothing mechanical exhale of the oxygen machine.  And I couldn't speak.  I couldn't wake her.  REST.  Let her rest.  That woman needed rest.  She was an OX that fighter.  And a fighter's gonna fight.  But for now, I let her rest.  And since I could not myself, I sat and sobbed silently, with my hand gently draped over her arm.  I wanted to hold her hand, but, I didn't want to wake her.  As my tears poured forth, so did my soul praying to her every cherished memory and heartfelt gratitude for every contribution and impact she's ever blessed me with. I prayed and prayed that she not be scared. I prayed if her and God are in agreement, that if she wants to come back as my baby so I could raise her and give her all the snuggles, that I was still totally cool with it, like we had already discussed several months ago.  I prayed memories of so many sweet summers spent soaking up southern sun in Kansas on the farm, surrounded with family, fed food she made with her love.  I prayed to God as my grandmother laid there to sleep, I prayed the Lord her soul to keep.  I prayed that if she died before she could wake, I prayed the Lord her soul to take.   I prayed thanks and gratitude for her efforts in instilling in me every great quality of a wonderful woman that she had.  
​

My grandmother was everyone's grandmother.  Every one loved her.  No one ever said a harsh word about her outside of her ability to 'hold her water' and her keenness to 'stirring the pot'.  And I saw that trickle down a generation to my mother.  EVERY one loves Missy's Mom.  She's the neighborhood block's mom.  Generations of selfless giving.  Women who would give you the shirt off their back, the food in their fridge, and the warmth in their heart if it meant you would be even just a little more comfortable.  I am so blessed to inherit these generational gifts.  I promised her that I would keep making her proud. I remembered a recent memory we made while I had the boys with me for a visit at the rehab center.  The nurse was commenting on how awesome and well behaved my little dudes were, remarks on how patient and loving I must be. Declarations of observations of how dedicated and kind my mother is.  And a proclamation of how my grandmother is one of her favorites.  That's when I turned to my grandmother and said, "And to think grandma, NONE of us would be here if you hadn't gotten laid!"  The room bursted with an uproar of laughter, which triggered a coughing fit for my poor old grandma.  I started to feel bad, but was comforted when in between coughs she reminded me who I must've received my sense of humor from.

I looked up at my grandmother and saw a smile come across her face.  Now, I'm not certain that this smile was in exact response to that exact memory, but that is the way I chose to remember it.  However, I am certain that she was there with me, and we were communicating to each other through our hearts.  Empathy?  Telepathy?  One could get real sciencey about it and discuss quantum entanglement.  But I don't need numbers.  For me, faith alone confirms in that exact moment that I looked up and she smiled, that my spirit was talking to her spirit when we were not able to speak words. ​

I still couldnt leave her side, so I sat beside her and colored her a picture in the coloring book I got her.  I apologized for getting her such cheap colored pencils.  When I finished, I turned it over and wrote her a letter.  While I was writing, a nurse came in and asked if I knew what she would like for dinner.  I said I didn't know - she had been asleep this whole time.  She offered her her usual - a chocolate pudding.  I glanced over to the half eaten pudding sitting on her side table and then back to the nurse, knowing full well my grandma was not able to eat it.  I gave a brief nod of approval.  As she walked past me she stopped and asked, "Can I get YOU anything?"  I replied with a quiet "No thank you" .....but thank you for acknowledging my pain.  I almost stopped her again and asked for the menu to order my grandma the tastiest treat on there - her 'last meal' if you will - but then thought that if she woke up and saw that I ordered her a dinner she wouldnt be able to eat that she'd be upset with me for wasting food - Ive seen this woman suck marrow out of bone, there was no place for food waste.  The nurse went on her way.  I finished my letter.  I signed it ",Love you MORE.  I'll be seeing you.  Love, Your Sunshine"

As I got up to leave, I stood frozen, fighting the difficulty of feeling that I was leaving her there to die alone.  I looked at her and thought of what a blessing it was for her to spend her last years back home, watching me raise my twin boys.  She moved from Colorado literally the week before I went into labor.  Ending life with new life that ultimately she partly created.  I thanked God for His Divine Timing.  I managed to faintly muster up spoken words, barely a choked whisper, "I love you MORE Grandma." before turning away and leaving her side for the last time.

I drove back to the Moose, gathered my family, came home and threw together some bologna sandwiches, cheddar veggie sticks, and apple sauce pouches.  Boom.  Dinner.  I left the kids with the husband and headed to our family room for some reclusive time.  I looked at the clock.  7:18 p.m.  I had every intention of lighting a candle for National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day.  I quickly cleared some room on the bookshelf and laid out candles for every person I've met's child that they lost.  As I lit one, and another, and another, using each previous candle to light the next, I was surprised at the amount of heat the cluster was giving off.  I imagined the heat releasing anger and pain.  I prayed over the candles for the babies and their families.  It was theraputic.  Eye opening.  Refreshing to realize how Not Alone I was.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (organization) is a 501(c)(3) not-for-profit organization that offers complimentary remembrance photography to families grieving after a stillbirth or the death of an infant

That night as we put our children to bed, snuggling them in the darkness of their room before tucking them in, both of my children simultaneously started saying "GG up!  Bye bye GG.  GG in sky!  GG up!" I was holding Joel and he was pointing towards the ceiling while his sweet tiny voice uttered these words.  I wondered if their Great Grandma had passed and come for a visit.

Sunday morning I woke early to head to a meeting for the Healing Committee at my church.  My curious new pup decided it was time again to join me in the shower, so I decided to take the opportunity to bathe the dog, instead of having just a wet stinky one.  The fiasco left me to attend only the last 10 minutes of the meeting.
"You're not staying for service? You drove all that way!"  I explained that my mom had the boys at her house while my husband was at school and that my grandmother was on her last few breaths and that I wanted to be close in case my mom got the call.  I drove home in a funk.  Off.  Melancholy.  After doing a load of laundry and putting together the last few pieces of my 'new' desk, I drove to Ulta to get some new makeup - I had ran out a few days ago.  I had intended to go back home and finish the laundry and some other housework, when I was again struck with the urge to go to my moms and hang out with her and my babies instead.  Precisely as I was coming up to the intersection where I could either turn right and be to my mom's in 2 1/2 blocks or go straight and be home in 8 minutes, right as I was deciding which direction to go, my phone rang.  It was my mom.  She never calls.  It was THE call....

Some times it takes me a while to understand my messages, other days I get the very clear.  That morning I knew where I needed to be...Home.

I dont have an 'end' or closure for this post.  Which seems fitting as she is not really gone, just passed over.  Her life continues, not only on the other side of the veil, but here, in the generations of lives she's helped mold.  It seems only fitting to share the awesomeness of some of the legacy she's 'left behind'.  

You'll live on in our hearts forever, Grandma.

I'll be seeing you,
I love you MORE,
Love,
Your Sunshine