She did not wander aimlessly around the neighborhood or pace the driveway inserting her bedroom key into our car door locks. Nor did she circle our house knocking on windows, pounding on doors or ringing the doorbells while calling out, “Hello, is anyone there? This is Susan. Could you open the door please? I need to talk to you!” No, there was none of the familiar drama this time.
Susan’s last exit was not nearly as dramatic as the past few years of her life, although it was equally as memorable. Her death was a peaceful one. She was comfortably at home in her own familiar room. She received calls from both of her daughters', who spoke things in her ear and sang a beautiful song that she seemed to enjoy.
Then, as the night went on, I stood with my husband and daughters' while their beautiful voices sang to their Grandma. Then, we all sang familiar hymns and other songs that we knew she loved. We held her hands and kissed her face and spoke gentle words of encouragement. She was not alone and there was no doubt that she was loved. She was.
As the sun rose in the morning she slipped away...for the final time...
It wasn’t until later in the morning that we allowed the funeral home to remove the body. Jeff needed the time.
He escorted her body as it was wheeled onto our front porch and toward the driveway. I stepped onto the porch and watched her go. I cried. It was hard to let her go. For the first time, I did not need to follow her to ensure her safety. My job was done.
The days leading up to this moment had been timeless and slow, but gone in a flash. In times like these, certain moments imprint themselves forever in your brain ever so clearly, while simultaneously the ‘whole of it’ is being blurred. But one thing was clear as I stood on our porch that morning, she was gone and we would never be the same.
Living- really living is a wonderful thing; but make no mistake, dying is the final act of living on this earth and can be equally as beautiful. I have come to grasp that there would be no death if there had not been life and no life without a death. So, in death- I am thankful for the life. And in life, I accept the eventuality of death. Death can free us up to live- if we will. I left Susan’s bedside ready to live. Thank you, God, for all of life
