Death Sucks!

My Grammy passed away at 2:02 P.M. today. It took her a week, well actually 90 years, to die. It was her time. She'd lived a good life. She was in pain and is no longer. She is in a better place. She's reunited with my Grandpa, her parents. I will see her again. We are sealed together for eternity. All this I know, but it still sucks. Big time.

I was fortunate to know this woman - this strong, beautiful, stubborn, intelligent, crossword-doing, and Oatmeal Creme Pie-eating woman. I am blessed to have parts of her in me. Parts I love and treasure and celebrate. Her love of travel. Her vanity. Sense of style. Ice cream passion! Forgetfulness. Loyalty. Jewelry wearing. Sense of humor.

I know there is more; I just can't think of it all now. My mind is a jumble of memories and thoughts at this late hour. My heart is sad, but happy at the same time. I am conflicted.

I had the opportunity to have last precious moments with her, truly as her, on Thursday. She has always lit up when she sees my son, even though her senility prevented her from realizing who he is. She spoke of him being the cutest baby she'd seen in a long time. She said again Thursday, quietly, as I sat before her on her bed, "He's so cute." He "kissed" her nose.

Our last conversations:
As she awoke for a few minutes, Me: Hey, pretty lady!
Taking her hands in mine, Grammy: You're the pretty lady.
Me: No, you're the pretty lady.
Grammy: You're a pretty lady.
Me: Well, people tell me I look like you, so what does that say?

Later, saying goodbye, for the day, and, as it turns out, for this life:
She repeated that my son is cute. I told her, "I love you, Grammy," about five thousand times, and kissed her on her forehead. She looked at me, and I knew she knew who I was (that hadn't happened for awhile). I turned to go, holding my son, and my cousin said, "Suzanne, she's talking to you." I turned back to hear her, but I missed the words. My uncle hadn't, though, and he told me what she had said: "I love you, too."

I know she does.