Remembering Mrs. Vasser

I've been meaning to write this post for a month now, but the words have been too difficult to formulate. We've had some good times in the last month, but some sad ones too. I can't seem to let myself post the good ones yet, my heart not ready to move beyond the sad times.

My grandmother. My days are full of memories of her. In losing someone I loved so dearly, I have found that everything I do reminds me of her. I would not normally be with her right now - I live 1000 miles away from her home - but I miss her like crazy, knowing that I can't go see her or hear her voice if I call. I think of all the times I missed out on hearing that voice and I am sad.

I was in the pharmacy the other day and they paged a customer to come by and answer a question for them. I choked up as they called for "Mrs. Vasser." For a split second I expected to hear by grandmother's southern accent respond. But, then I remembered and it was somebody else's voice that answered.

Addy started drawing a picture the other day. She came in to the room crying. She said, "I was going to draw GG a picture, but then I remembered that she's with Jesus in heaven."

That was a difficult day. I unpacked a lot of the jewelry (mostly costume) that she had put in a box and written my name on. I kept looking at her picture and crying. It was cathartic. I have had a couple of good cries since she passed away, but my eyes are not dry yet.

On Tuesday, September 4th, I spent the morning at the hospital with grandma. She had a really good day the day before - the best since she'd been admitted with the superbug - and we were feeling very encouraged. She'd had a lot of visitors that day and even enjoyed a visit from some of her good lady friends.

The morning of the 4th, I was supposed to visit for about an hour and a half and then go home to watch the girls so mom could come up (Nathan was at a conference in Evansville for a few days). Grandma was hurting so badly that I was hesitant to leave her alone, even for a little while. Mom and I decided I should stay. Grandma really appreciated me rubbing her shoulders - both of us thought it was her arthritis causing the pain. She always struggled with her arthritis when in the hospital since they take her off her arthritis meds.

I sang to her. I only really know a couple of hymns, but I sang them over and over for her to help distract from the pain. After the last song, she quietly said, "So precious. So precious." I kissed her forehead and savored the moment. I stayed until visiting hours were over and then left for home. It was so hard to leave her alone while she was hurting so badly.

That night, my aunt went to the hospital so our family could have a small break. We took the opportunity to enjoy a family dinner at my sister's house. Nathan, the girls and I were planning to leave town on Thursday, so it was one of our last chances to see everyone and let the kids play together. My aunt called mom later that night, very concerned. Grandma wasn't doing well and my aunt asked mom to join her at the hospital.

Mom called an hour later to tell us we should make our way to the hospital. It looked like it was going to be grandma's last night. I called Nathan and he immediately left to get back to Louisville.

The transformation of grandma from the morning to night was emotionally very difficult. She laid in bed, eyes wide open, her breathing very labored. She was still responsive, but unable to really talk. We sang hymns over her again . . . she tried to join in. Her favorite was "Great is Thy Faithfulness." We sang it over and over again.

When I read scripture over her, she grunted in affirmation. She took in every word of Psalm 139. He knew her thoughts. He knew the days ordained for her, before even one of them came to be. He knit her together in her mother's womb all those years ago. She could never depart from his presence - she is his.

As the night progressed, my grandmother became less able to respond - but she kept her eyes open, not even blinking for about 12 hours. We think she could still hear us, so we continued to sing, pray and read scripture over her. She was slowly slipping away from us. My feelings were one of peace and acceptance, mixed with a deep sadness and loss that I've never felt before.

This woman was a hero in my life. She was larger than life to me in so many ways. And yet, here she was, laying on this bed, ready to receive her reward, her earthly life coming to an end. She was soon to depart this life and I was (and am) so thankful for the assurance of her salvation because she put her hope in Jesus.

Around 8 o'clock, my mother had to make the final decision about when it was time to pull grandma off of her blood pressure meds (these were pretty much what was keeping her alive). Grandma was very ready to go home and we didn't want to prolong her pain anymore. Our family gathered in grandma's room and waited with her. As she slipped into eternity, we cried, sang, grieved and held each other. It was one of the most difficult, yet beautiful moments of my life. There are not really words to describe it.

But there is now a void where she once was. Everyone who has ever lost someone they love know this void well. It will never be filled because no one could replace my MawMaw. But I am so full of praise that this was not the end. As she told me a year a half ago, "This is the beginning for me, not the end."

Praise his name.