How come 97 years just isn't enough time
I'm really good at telling people that she lived 97 wonderful years and we are so grateful that we had her in our lives. Sure, it all sounds good but inside I'm in absolute disbelief. It's not denial, I know she's dead and is never coming back. It's more of the disbelief that she's actually gone... that when you know someone isn't going to live forever and they obviously don't but you just can't believe it finally happened. Nana lived a very happy and healthy life and was truly loved by all who knew her. A widow for 40 years, (I'm 50) she was always a central part of our lives. She said by being our grandmother (my sister and I) it helped her get through her own grief. Her husband, father and father in law all died within months of eachother and having us girls to help out with seemed to soften the blow for her. She told us that over and over throughout her life. About 2 years ago she had a gallbladder attack and the doctors thought she was going to die. She didn't and after a year ended up in a nursing facility where she lived out her life. 10 days ago she peacefully died in her sleep. I was there with her private aide and at midnight we decided that the overnight staff was great and that we could go home. I always imagined every time as the last time I would see her and this time because she was getting morphine she didn't say her part. Her part: Thanks for coming. My part: Thanks for having me. So I said both parts. She died a couple of hours later and my mother called in the morning. I'd been preparing myself for it as much as you think you can but if I'm as ok as I thought I would be, why am I crying. She and I had talked about her death many times over the years and she always said that she had lived a good life and that it was ok for her to die and go to heaven. OK for her, not ok for me I guess. I went to her private family burial last Friday. She was cremated. There was a mass today but I didn't go because honestly I didn't want people blubbering all over me when I was already feeling sad. I always knew that I wouldn't go and I talked to Nana about it and she said that I brought her flowers when she was alive so no reason to be sad when she was dead. I guess sadness is because there is a whole in the spot that the person used to fill. And when that spot is empty, you are sad. Sad is not fun. I wished so many nights that Nana would die peacefully in the middle of the night. She said it over and over that it was her time, that she had lived long enough and that all her parts were wearing out. All true. And I was very fortunate that we could have had those talks for such a long time when others I know never have the chance. Part of me feels sad for those that have experienced true tragedy because her death was not tragic, it is just sad that she's never going to see us again. Or talk on the phone. Or tell us a story. Or hold our hand. Or have us hold hers. If I had to make the decision myself I would have wanted her to be in heaven shortly after she decided it was her time. I would have done that for her because I believe in my heart that the great gift you can give someone is the gift of clear mind. We gave her the clear mind and when she decided it was her time to go, she went. I guess I will have to always remember that while I'm sad she's gone, I'm lucky to have loved her enough to be sad. I guess I'll trade the sad for love any day.
Lilliam Amadeo, 1915-2012. Love you Nana, RIP <3 Katie