Sarah Blake LaRose (3kitties) wrote,
Sarah Blake LaRose

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final conversation with Granny

Last night Mom and I went back up to the hospital as soon as I finished writing here. Granny was in a lot of pain. Even the pain shot didn't seem to help. I took Mom out in the hall. "Why doesn't He just take her?" I said. And we both cried for a while. My neighbor, Denise, came up and hugged us. Some relative of hers is apparently on the same unit.

I went back in Granny's room and stayed for a while. Finally I decided it was time to go home. I went over to Granny's bed. "Granny, I'm going home for a while, and I'll come and see you in the morning." Mom said she looked at me. I started crying. "I love you, Granny. I'll see you in the morning." Then I thought, What if I don't see her again.

I got home and sat on the couch with Dad. "It's not fair!" I said, and told him about Thursday night and Friday. "It's not fair that she had to spend her last day awake like that."

"It's not her," he reminded me. "It's the pressure on the brain."

"I know, but it's not fair to what IS her!"

A few minutes later Mom called to say that Granny was resting. Later on I talked to Mom again, and she said that Granny is now being medicated every eight hours and more as needed.

I talked to Vicki in between talks with Mom. "Sarah," Vicki said, "your grandmother's already gone. You need to pray for peace for her body."

I know she is right. Granny's body and mind are still there, but her self is gone to wherever it went. I know where it is, and I believe I knew when it left. That is just something personal. I don't know with my brain, but I think I knew.

Cheryl said that Thursday night Granny said, "Our children believe all this stuff, and it's all lies." Then Gramps read Psalm 116.

I know my Granny loves me. No one can tell me different. The last conversation we had was Monday night.

"I love you, Baby," she said.

"I love you, too."

"That's all there is."

"That's all that counts."

Then she said she was tired and gave the phone to Dad.

And I know what she believes. Last Saturday I laid in bed with her, and everyone left us alone. "You have a gift from God," she said. "Always be faithful to Him. You can never go wrong when you trust Him."

And that IS all that counts. Of course, I'm sad. I'll miss being able to talk with her and see her when I come home. But I know she will see me. She'll be at my concerts. She'll see what I'm writing.

And through all this, I CAN rejoice because of what I am learning. I can see God if I stop looking wildly around. I can hear His voice. I know He's there. I am learning how unimportant my physical body is. I am learning what is important. And I am learning to hold on to the Truth.


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