Whisper

Friday morning, I woke early….around 4:00 am. I laid in bed, lost in my thoughts for a bit.  Around 5:00 I rolled out of bed and quickly got dressed, keeping my pajama shirt on and just adding some jeans.  I whispered to my husband that I was leaving, and grabbed the keys.  I got in my car, but not to join the thousands of shoppers trying to get the best deals that morning.  I drove to the hospital and rode the elevator to the eleventh floor.  I found room 1105.  My brother lovingly left after staying all night, and I was alone with my Nana.  My best friend.  The night before, we drove through the night to get there, to be there with her.  She had a traumatic fall and her passing was close.  My Nana has been my best friend since I can remember.  Nearly all my adventures in life, in some way, included Nana.  I sat down next to her bedside and took her hand.  She was unresponsive, but I knew that she knew I was there.  We have always had a special connection.  I cannot count the times I went to call her and just as I picked up the phone, it rang with her on the other line.  Nor can I recall the many times I would make a decision to do something and the very next day Nana would call and ask if I had considered this possibility, and it would be the exact path I had already decided on or was leaning heavily to.  As a child I would savor the time I had with her.  I always felt so loved, so grown up.  I was always comfortable with Nana.  I was always at home, no matter the place, as long as she was there.  She bought me my first push up bra after nursing my first baby, and often (as late as last Monday!) chided me for dressing too old and not wearing enough color.  As I took her hand I spread out her fingers and felt her long, strong nails.  I noticed all the bruising on her hand and knew it wasn’t from the fall but more likely from her latest battle with the roses out back.  She taught me how to care for living things.  She taught me how to whisper to my flowers to encourage them to grow.  She taught me to love the dirt and that it was the best form of therapy for our soul.  As I traced her fingers I talked with her about my love for her.  I thanked her for being my best friend, and how I expected and wanted her to keep watching over me…just from a different place now.  I felt a sacred peace settle in my heart.  I knew shortly she would be with her beloved dad whom she had missed for a very long time.  I knew she would soon be working in those Celestial gardens and how happy she would feel to stand up from kneeling and not feel the pain in her back or hips anymore.  I sat in the quiet darkened room with Nana for nearly four hours.  It was the greatest tender mercy of my life.  Although she didn’t physically acknowledged I was there, it was like we were back in Draper, each of us sitting in the green recliners and talking into the late hours of the nights. Marleen, a sweet, caring, gentle cna came in and asked if I wanted to help wash her.  I readily agreed, knowing that Nana would have lovingly done the same for me.  It was an experience I will always hold close.  We repositioned her and I combed her hair, just like I had watched her do for years.  I will miss that dark, thick hair.  The doctors came in and told me it would be best to call family and have them come quickly as her passing was close. My time with her was done.  I want to remember that morning, I want to remember the peace I felt, that only could have come from her and a loving Heavenly Father.  I want to remember holding her hand just the two of us, just like we had for years before.  The cliché saying of words cannot describe, at least in this earthly language, apply this morning as well.  I hope to keep living in the way she would be pleased with.  My heart is heavy and it feels like I am broken.  I know time will help, I am just unsure of what life will look like without her, and she was such a big part of mine.  I love you Nana.  I anxiously look forward to our chats again.  I will deeply miss your calls, your Christmas-morning-like boxes, your concern for me, your deep soul filling hugs. You were happiest serving others, and was my greatest example of the pure love of Christ.  I will miss you.