Unbuttoning Grief like the Buttons on a Cardigan

I stood at the foot of the hospital bed and watched as Grandma's kids and their spouses surrounded her - brushing her clammy forehead with a cool washcloth, cradling her bony fingers, speaking encouraging words. Grandma sucked in air through her open mouth, there was a painful pause of silence, then she released the air from her labored lungs. The kids whispered to their mom letting her know they were present; she could go to heaven and be with their dad; her fight could be over. Grandma gasped for air. A longer pause. She released the air. Mom's eyes were on her mom, but I heard her whisper to Dad to check on me; I nodded my head yes to his inquiry. I was okay. Dad prayed over Grandma and told her to take hold of Jesus' outstretched hand. Grandma inhaled. Her kids whispered their love. My eyes focused on her shut eyelids. Pause.

The cardigan's bottom button shook undone.

Grandma rushed to the hospital due to an unstoppable nosebleed. The doctors ran tests, and Grandma was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer on March 3rd, 2024. My mind understood the severity of the situation, but my emotions were like the tortoise in a race - delayed. My siblings and I talked, and I heard the sadness in their voices, but mine sounded normal. While my siblings lived out of state, I provided what I could for my mom as she went through this final stage with Grandma. I found I was more emotional watching my mom go through this life trial than I was with Grandma having a couple of days to live.

Then it hit. I had an hour left of work when I heard the Lord whisper to my numb heart, What do you need?

I choked up at my desk when I realized I needed a hug and to be held. I felt like I had to be the strong one for Mom and be the golden retriever of information for my siblings, which resulted in ignoring my need for comfort. After work, I went to a gas station and received a text from a friend asking if I needed anything. I felt silly asking, but I told her I needed a hug. Her response was immediate, and I met her and another friend at the Wellness Center parking lot nearby. They held me and the tears finally trickled out.

Why was I having sporadic tears for her when we didn't even have a close relationship?

The next button was pushed, stuck, and then forced through the slot.

When we lived in Montana, the Lord provided me with a grandmother figure, a mentor, and a dear friend all wrapped up in one person, and she embraced me in her heart. She taught me horseback riding; we hiked with the horses; we worked in her garden; we lounged in her hot tub; we made craisin and white chocolate chip cookies; we had slumber parties with ice cream; we had familiar conversations. I had a plethora of memories with my dear friend but very few with my own Grandma. A horrible but accurate thought came to my mind. If my Montana friend were in the same place as my grandma - in the hospital on a morphine drip - I would be more devastated.

The middle button was yanked from the cardigan's seam.

Grandma loved her grandkids. During Christmas, Grandma would stay at her youngest daughter's place and make candies with her grandsons. Grandma's granddaughters would sometimes take her out to eat or come over for a delicious meal she made. Whatever the occasion, Grandma's eagerness matched her grandkids' excitement. My cousins had a deep connection with Grandma. I hated watching her affection for her grandkids while I felt overlooked and fell short of her expectations. I desired my own special relationship with Grandma like my cousins had with her, but our relationship never felt like it grew above the soil.

Second from the top button was twisted loose.

Grandma lived with my parents and me before I moved out. I knew she drank a cup of coffee every morning for breakfast, so I thought I could connect with her in the mornings. I got up early on Sunday mornings to have coffee with her. She seemed pleased the first time, but then the routine fizzled out. She wouldn't wait for me before making her coffee and breakfast. I felt like me joining her was a short-term memory loss and she only had the long-term memory locked in - before I joined her for breakfast.

I didn't know how to connect with her beyond the surface greetings and goodbyes between a grandmother and a granddaughter. I didn't comprehend why I would cry for a woman I didn't even know.

I shared a little of how I was feeling with Mom, and she made a connection for me. My grief stemmed from having no relationship with my grandma. I didn't realize that was possible. I thought grief sprouted out of a love connection, so of course my extended family would mourn for Grandma. But me? I lacked what they treasured, so why would I cry? What gave me the right?

The last button - near the heart - smoothly slid free.

I was Grandma's granddaughter, too, although I didn't experience her love like the others.

After I unraveled the reason for my emotional delay and confusion for grief, I asked the Holy Spirit if He wanted to say anything.

He did: Forgive.

Okay. "Lord, will you forgive me of bitterness, frustration, anger, resentment, and jealousy I have towards my cousins, Grandma, and their relationships with each other? Please forgive me for how I compared their relationship to my lack of one with Grandma."

Yes. All is forgiven.

"I forgive Grandma for the way she treated me versus the way she loved her other grandkids. I surrender my hurt to You, Jesus. Holy Spirit, fill my heart with thankfulness for the opportunity I did receive to spend time with her and gleaned from her. Fill my heart with gratitude for my cousins who were blessed by their relationship with Grandma, my mom's mom, Your daughter. Amen."

~ ~ ~

Grandma grasped Jesus' outstretched hand on March 29th, 2024 - Good Friday. My dad planned her funeral and asked if any family members would want to participate. I agreed to read a poem Grandma picked. A couple of my cousins crafted a list of Grandma sayings and shared additional stories. As I listened, I realized if I had not unraveled my grief and gave forgiveness before the funeral, I would have felt hurt and bitter toward a woman my family loved. Instead, I rejoiced with them for the special moments they shared and cultivated with Grandma.

I almost felt like an imposter when I watched my grandma in her last moment on this earth. Surely one of her other grandkids should be with her. Now, I was thankful the Lord gave me the strength to be in the room and to say goodbye:

"Grandma, I appreciated the time we spent together eating out, drinking coffee, and commenting on the birds outside the living room's window. You kept saying you were ready to go Home, and Jesus welcomed you on Good Friday. A good night to end your pain and begin an everlasting joy. Though you are greatly missed, I'm thankful you are finally Home with Jesus and Grandpa. Love you!"