Bittersweet

I haven't really known how to blog about my week. So much of it has been filled with sorrow but since it's also a holiday week there has been some joy. I feel I'm stuck in limbo as I debate what I will write about first. Should I write and post about the first sorrowful part of my week first? Or should I start out happy with the second part? Unfortunately I feel I must write about both at the same time depicting how my family members and I have felt this week. Our Thanksgiving was bittersweet as we enjoyed loved ones both living and dead.

My grandmother Maureen Susanne Irwin Merrick has battle cancer for several years. When I mean several I'm talking decades. Contracting breast cancer twice and fighting it off twice we thought Grandma would beat it and live forever. When the third relapse happened we hoped and probably expected this round to be a repeat of the last two but for the last nine years her body slowly succumbed to the cancer has it found it's way to her bones, liver, and finally lungs.

While she was or wasn't battling cancer Grandma was a steady force in our family. Though quiet but by no means meek she had plenty of her opinions but didn't force her views on her children or grandchildren. She didn't think much of any given church but I often heard her say, "Any church is better then nothing." She was always there at every function we had from volleyball games to choir concerts to every one of my church functions.

Her own father died when she was seven and my great grandma moved her two children from Canada to San Diego, CA where they lived in various places including project homes and a chicken farm. Traveling by train Grandma celebrated her eighth birthday while the north US rushed by. She enjoyed the outdoors playing on Mission Bay Beach while growing up. After marrying and had three boys she still continued to enjoy the outdoors but expanding up the mountains to snowmobile.

My grandparents moved their three boys up to Grandpa's native Idaho where they lived for well over thirty years in the same home. My parents met (my mother having moved up from San Fransisco just a few months after my dad) married and well the rest is history. Growing up I lived no more than 10 minutes away from my grandparents and both were a huge part of my life.

The first time I heard of my grandma getting breast cancer was actually her second time and I was scared. But her treatments went well and she recovered quickly despite her age so when the third time came I was sad but not scared. She beat it twice why not a third time? Earlier this year my grandpa called up all the boys scolding them for not being more supportive in grandma's illness. We suspected this time was different but we didn't really know for sure and probably didn't want to know. Then in October we were told Grandma had decided to go into hospice care. Wanting to support my family I asked to go with my parents to the hospital. My grandmother had been on kemo but it was doing more damage than good. Her lungs had filled with fluid and she couldn't breath and soars were forming in her mouth and she wouldn't eat. After draining her lungs (a painful process) of nearly a quart of fluid her doctor had said it was time to stop the treatments.

As we met with the doctor he was certain her lungs would fill up again we just didn't know how long it would take but he was certain that three months before she died was a positive estimate. The room was filled with sadness and acceptance but my grandfather crying for the love of his life was the hardest thing I ever witnessed. What I saw a month ago was only a foreshadowing of what was to come.

In the beginning all went really well. You could see Grandma perking up and behaving as if she was just old and not dying. She was eating and getting out of bed without much trouble. From earlier posts you know I took care of her in the mornings and it was wonderful sitting with her, making her breakfast and chatting with her. Looking back on it I wish I had asked more about her life but one thing we talked about was not living with regret and so I remember what we did talk about.

I remember how I held Ruby in my arms as she waved for the second time in her life to her great grandma unprovoked and how pleased Grandma was. I remember watching Emille cook and commenting on how excited the audience gets over cayenne pepper and she shoots back, "You should see what happens with garlic!" I remember helping her move to her chair to have some semblance of getting better. I remember talking about how glad I was able to be with her every morning.

Soon, though, she had trouble breathing again. She wasn't getting out of her bed anymore because she was afraid of losing her breath. A week later, Nov 21st, I got a call from my sister, who was crying, that she may not make it through the night. Flash and I packed up the kids picking up my brother and his girlfriend and we headed to my parents. Grandma was laboring to breath and my mom said this was a good time to say goodbye. I called my younger brother in Rexburg and told him to come home. She was on heavy pain medications that must be administered every two hours. I stayed up with her the first half of the night and by morning she was still alive but none responsive.

Around 9:00 am my dad came to me and said he was going to use the priesthood to release grandma's spirit from her body. My husband, younger brother, and my dad gathered around her and told her it was time to go home. My mom and I decided to bath her one last time. Silently we bathed her and gave her fresh clothes as a way of saying goodbye and we love you. An hour later she was gone.

I have never cried so much and seen so much sorrow as I saw in my grandfather as he cried and said, "God I loved that woman." There was some confusion as we realized we had no idea what to do now that she was gone. We had such purpose in taking care of her while she was alive that with her death our purpose was gone. Hospice came and verified her "apparent death" was the term they used and we decided to call a local company who would cremate her body. We gathered in her room as we waited for them to some get her body. We talked about...everything and in that moment there was peace, sorrow so much sorrow, but peace in knowing...it was over, she was no longer scared for she was never in much pain.

For the last few days I've felt like my heart was broken. Even as I write my heart aches for our loss. We spent the next few days preparing for Thanksgiving knowing it was her favorite holiday and knowing she would be there but only in spirit and for some reason that didn't seem enough. We set a place for her at the table with her good china she only used for holiday meals. Thanksgiving was as mentioned bittersweet. As we gathered with siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles we watched our children and laughed. There was no mourning but the sorrow was ever present. Finally the day was over and with a sigh we realized we made it through. Christmas is coming but knowing we made it through the first holiday without her I think will make it easier. Loss is an interesting thing...it never really goes away...it just gets easier over time.