Lessons Before Dying: Final Moments with My Grandma

A little over a week ago, my 96-year-old grandma passed away quietly after contracting pneumonia and suffering a stroke. While death and loss are difficult for the living and the dying alike, her death was peaceful. We should all be so lucky to live the full and mostly independent life my grandmother led until 94. At the beginning of 2023, my grandma fell, which led to a significant and slow decline in her physical mobility.  This past year has been difficult because physical challenges meant less connection with family and no independence. Dementia took hold, but still, when I was able to visit, she lit up and knew who I was even when a mask covered my face. The greatest blessing in this slow and steady fade was that she seemed happy and calm. She wasn't afraid and seemed to charm her way into the nurses' and workers' hearts - especially those who lovingly spoke Spanish to her and called her Mamita. Ella esta en buenas manos. 

My grandma and I were extremely close. Growing up about a mile from her house, she was my babysitter and caretaker as a child, and I carry deep gratitude for her presence (and all the pickups from school she provided) in my youth. We talked almost every day in my adult life when she (sort of) learned how to use a cell phone, especially after her sister died in 2018, and we saw each other once a week for a library and Happy Meal date. 

Sometimes, the school of life teaches us lessons we do not realize we need to learn. These past few years, throughout the pandemic, life has shown me that I had to face adversity in ways I had been too sheltered to recognize before. The selfishness of people, loss, and heartache entered my sphere in ways I had never faced before. Working through my grief and repressed trauma this spring and into the summer has made me realize the power of gratitude and the importance of doing the right thing even when no one is watching. 

After her stroke, my Grandma couldn't speak. As a result, I found myself filling the silence with stories of times we shared. She’d gesture with recognition when I talked about the times we trudged through Woodfield Mall and ate quesadillas at the Nordstrom Cafe. I hoped she felt love and knew I was there. From subtle squeezing of the hands and her fight to stay awake for as long as possible while I sat with her, I believe she knew me and was trying to impart her final bits of wisdom to me, even without a voice. When she fell asleep, I sat looking at her, trying to fill in the gaps of what she would have said. Here are the lessons I will take from her.

Lesson #1: Show up. 

When we are in times of grief or struggle, the people who show up unprompted and without judgment make the difference. This year, I have had people I thought were friends who did not show up for me, but I have also had an abundance friends and loved ones show up unexpectedly and compassionately. Every gesture makes a difference, from walks in the woods to lunch dates, text messages to goofy notes left on a desk. Those connections have meant the world to me, and I could not be more grateful.

Every person, at our core, wants to feel seen and valued. Showing up for someone provides comfort and validation. Grand gestures or public acts of service are not needed to express empathy and lend a listening ear. While I could not do anything to change my grandma's circumstances, I kept telling her that I was there for her and that she was safe with me holding her hand. 

Lesson #2: Be still.

We live in a culture that celebrates busyness and moving at the fastest pace possible. In her final days, grandma was unable to speak. Sitting quietly with her made me realize that pausing every once in a while is okay. Plans got canceled, and my life was put on hold. The stillness I experienced allowed me to consider what matters most to me and to my family. In that stillness, I set goals for the coming school year, considering what I want my next chapter to be. Even though my daily routines have returned since her passing, I will continue to listen carefully and trust my intuition.

Lesson #3: Recognize that little moments matter. 

During her final days, I tried to recall every silly memory I could that we shared. From babysitting my second cousins to getting lost when she tried to take "shortcuts" driving to places - I had to laugh at the seemingly mundane daily experiences we found ourselves in. Those are the moments I remember with her. Nothing was fancy or flashy about those moments, but they made me laugh, and from the squeeze of her hand, I believe they mattered to her, too. 

When we live with intention and love, we create environments and experiences that matter. Whether telling a student they are capable of incredible feats or pausing to listen to a person who needs a friend's face - our words and ability to show love make this world a better place. These connections often don't happen during championship games or great victories; they occur in the everyday experiences that we sometimes take for granted.

 

Lesson #4: Treasure those who hold space for you. 

My grandma and I didn't share similar hobbies. She was a talented seamstress and loved shopping. I find shopping anxiety-inducing and triggering. Still, she loved sharing these experiences with me. She made beautiful dresses for me as a child and dragged me to the mall more often than I ever would have liked to go. While we didn't always love the same things, we could find ways to enjoy each other's company, and she'd listen. Without fail, she attended my plays and listened to me practice the piano for hours as a child. She gave me space and encouraged me to be myself. I know she made sacrifices for me and prioritized the activities that I loved. Despite our differences, I was safe to be myself with her. 

My relationship with my grandma has shown me that it is essential to hold space for people who hold space for us. We do not have to have the same beliefs or interests, but we can show up for, sit with, and create beautiful memories with many people who cross our paths. 

As a teacher, I am called to work with so many different types of students. I love the "tough ones" who need a little extra love. Reflecting on my relationship with my grandma has taught me how important it is to embrace people, make the most of every moment, and treasure people who cross our paths. May we all find ways to show love in whatever capacity we can and make the most of the life and opportunities gifted to us.