Knowing Gram, Knowing Myself
About a week before my senior year of college, my grandmother handed me an envelope during one of our regular visits to her house. I remember her in her knee-length white shorts, slippers and bright pink fingernails walking over to me with it, happy to give me a little extra cash to send me off. She did this every summer before I left for Pennsylvania. This would be the last time I saw her.
About a day before my senior year of college, that same grandmother was diagnosed with liver cancer. I spoke to her on the phone, to say goodbye before I left for school. I remember her getting quiet and pausing. She asked me to pray for her, which she had never done before. She was a woman of great faith, but this request was new. This would be the last time I spoke to her.
The day before my fall break from my senior year of college, my now-husband and I went out to grab a drink and play some cards before we parted ways for the long weekend. It was a lovely distraction from what I faced going home. My grandmother was declining rapidly, in in-home hospice care. The priest had come the day before to bestow the sacrament of last rites. My large family thought she might be waiting to see me.
While we played and drank and talked, my body relaxed and I forgot about the sadness I felt and the heartache I held about this first big impending loss. We probably even laughed and I had fun. Suddenly, though, a wave of grief took a hold of me. Tears filled my eyes. All at once, I intensely remembered - intensely knew - that Gram was dying. I looked up at the clock that faced me in the bar. It was between 10:30 and 10:45.
It was getting late. We knew it was time to leave, to get me home, and ready to drive back to Maryland the next day. We got in the car and my then-boyfirned’s cell phone rang, as I didn’t have one. It was my roommate calling to tell me that my parents had called. That my grandmother was gone. I called my house immediately and heard my dad cry for the first time. I wouldn’t get to see her.
My roommate was waiting for me when I returned and hugged me tight. I don’t know how I slept or if I slept. Another friend drove me home. The break was a whirlwind of family and viewings and a funeral. I read Proverbs 31 during the mass. Hearing how hard it was to watch her suffer, I became grateful I was the only one who didn’t get to see her.
I returned to school and spent a lot of time meditating on those last few months. About how the Spirit had been very active in my world. About how I thought Gram knew she was sick all along. That she knew she was dying. That she knew she wouldn’t see me again. And so, on the phone that day, she asked me to walk with her instead. And I believe I felt the very moment her spirit moved on. It washed over me, out of the blue. But it was perfect timing. And I will never be the same.
“ ‘Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her a share in the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the city gates.”
Proverbs 31: 29-31
