Her pain is almost gone-no more muscle spasms. But she is still pretty congested-pneumonia they say. She is really confused-not sure where she really is-wonders why her bed is in the living room, and are we coming to her house for coffee after church. Amazing how her lucidity was so tied in to her routine, and now that routine has been disrupted so she can't think clearly.
I wonder about this-she said her brother Henry came to see her yesterday and even pointed to where he stood. Henry has been gone for 8 years. Did she dream it or are they gathering an escort party? I have a friend who went septic and almost died. She could see people standing around her bed like they were waiting for her. Then her late dad's voice said, "Kid, it isn't your time," and all the people vanished. That was the moment the antibiotic kicked in and her vitals stabilized.
I believe there is a thin wall between this world and the next, and sometimes we are given a tiny glimpse into that next world.
My bloggy friend, Laurie at Crazy Aunt Purl is going through some of the same emotions and experiences with her grandmother who was moved to a nursing home this week. She talks about mourning in advance. I now know what she means. When I lost my own mom, it was quick, and there was really no time for goodbyes. With Gram I feel my mind is working on accepting the new reality, the one without her. I can say "I love you" one more time, I can kiss her once more and squeeze her hand. There is never enough time for goodbyes, but at least I have a fighting chance this time.
When Stan's uncle passed away at the age of 99 1/2, we visited him one last time. I was the last one to leave his room and as I turned to go, he said my name. I came close to him and he whispered, "Thank you." Not for anything specific, I believe, but just a sweet goodbye. As I got into the car I had the overwhelming feeling he would be going home soon. I imagined him saying to my mom, "I saw Marty just before I left. She's doing fine and sends her love."
Lots to think about, lots to work through. I do know that I am privileged to be around someone who will get to see the Glory soon, very soon. I hope her changeover is easy.