hblair,
Thank you for finding the courage to share this part of your life with us. Whether we like it or not, life and death are inexorably connected. You can't have one without the other. I greatly admire and envy people like your grandmother who can find such dignity and grace even in the face of death. That is true courage. But, there is also courage in witnessing a death and being a part of it as a supporter and a survivor. You are there and are finding this out first-hand and I salute you.
My grandmother died when I was about 13. She had had a horrible life, but she had wonderful support. My last images of here are described in a poem I wrote for her and for her caretaker, my grandfather. I hope it brings you some closure.
The Caretaker
She was sick.
He was tired.
She was confined to her bed, or to a wheelchair.
He was confined to her side.
He called her "Gussie".
She called him an old fool,
when whe was tired,
or in too much pain.
Such was the life of the caretaker.
Years of illness had gnarled her body.
Bed-ridden years of wheelchairs and pain
had turned her life into a living hell,
leaving only the agonized shell
of the woman she had been.
I had touched her heart once,
and made her smile.
But that was years ago.
But he was there through it all.
Ever patient,
ever caring,
ever loving.
He was there for her.
With bedpans, clean sheets, a feeding tray,
and a loving hand.
He was there for us, too.
With Uncle Remus stories
and a cold sixteen-ounce Coca Cola
on a hot summer's day.
The house was a mess,
but he had his hands full.
Still, he was always there.
I never heard him complain.
Not even once.
But I was young
and I saw him through a grandchild's eyes.
Loving.
Respecting.
Admiring.
He must have been dying inside,
but I couldn't tell it.
I never saw him shed a single tear,
until the night she died.
Then, for her, a lifetime
full of pain and suffering
was finally over.
For him, a lifetime commitment,
to love, honor, cherish, and obey,
in sickness and in health,
was fulfilled.
Karmic debts were paid,
in full.
And with her hand in his
and his head pressed against her frail, lifeless body,
he said, "I love you, Gussie,"
and shed a lifetime of tears.
Walt Barrow, © March 1989
buhdman, out
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Walt (buhdman) Barrow
(formerly lt-buhd-lite)
The Buccaneers - "Return with Honor"
home.earthlink.net/~wjbarrow
