On Tuesday, December 30th, 2008, my cherished grandma passed away. I was at her bedside, holding her hand as she took her last breath. And I’m glad I was there for her. You see, for those that don’t know, my grandma was a huge part of my life. Both her and my grandpa — who passed away suddenly in 2001 — not only did the regular grandparent-ly things such as sleepovers and giving out way too many candy treats, but they were also my friends and my inspiration.

When my parents divorced when I was a child, they took my brother and I under their wings when my mother had to work late hours. They took us camping, RVing, and on their shopping trips to the States. We stayed in hotels and went on hikes in the woods. We always woke up to buttermilk pancakes for breakfast. And we watched The Family Feud with Richard Dawson. Even when the distractions of teenage endeavors and adult life took hold, I continued to regularly visit, playing cards for hours or simply grabbing tea or amazingly diluted coffee or a bite out for lunch.

After my grandpa passed away my grandma made my brother and I power of attorney for her health care, which is something I was not only honored to do but welcomed. She was eventually diagnosed with dementia and we had to move her from her home into a retirement home, which broke my heart as this was the home I had grown to love, to look forward to visiting, with its creaky floors and eucalyptus-scented air. Several years later her dementia turned into Alzheimers and she was moved into a nursing home.

Watching her slowly decline has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever been witness to. Caring for someone as their mental faculties collapse is not easy. But beyond it all, she always lit up when I came to see her, and it wasn’t until Christmas Eve when I visited where, for the first time, I was unsure she knew who I was. It was a devastating visit.

Yet when I got the call on Tuesday that she had declined considerably over the night and that she did not have much more time, I went to her side as quickly as I could. She knew I was there, as she seemed lucid on my arrival. I stayed until her breathing slowed to a crawl, her body finally giving out, growing colder with each shortened breath.

I held her hand and told her I loved her and thanked her for every memory she had created for me. I will never forget her.

And it is to her I dedicate 2009.

I’ve had a YA novel idea for several years now, one that had stemmed from my grandpa and grandma and my experiences with them. I’ve been hesitant to write it. Not sure why, but I couldn’t bring myself to work on it. Now that my grandma has passed away, I feel inspired. I now understand why I wasn’t able to put the words down. The last chapter in my grandma’s life has ended, and so now the first chapter in this new novel can begin.

I feel that good things are in store for 2009.

Happy New Year.

Grandma Betty and Derek in 2005

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 3rd, 2009 at 12:01 pm and is filed under General Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.