Just an update to the faithful readers, as of 7:20am, my grandmother is still alive. She has a tenuous grasp on life. Dad called and let me know that her breathing has turned shallow and that the nurses believe she had her last BM. They believe that she is also at her end now and that at some point today she will be joining grandpa.

Spending the last moments of life with someone is an incredibly emotional experience. I told my father to be ready for it and that it is gut wrenching and beautiful at the same time. I have had two opportunities to see someone die. One was the the young gentleman who skidded off the road near our house. He owns the destinction of being the cause of my first mass email by the name of Sherburne County Backroads from which this blog is named.

The other one was my dear friend Marci Olson who came to the end of her days in the company of the friends she held most dear. I was blessed to be counted as one of those friends and was blessed to know her.  I can remember the time just before she passed. We kept watch on her throughout, but when the time neared we all were there. The nurse’s voice still hangs in my mind as she spoke with urgency and passion. “Everyone, come here! She is passing now. Put your hands on her to show her that she is loved as she goes.” Even now a couple years later I am tearing up as I recall the experience. It was emotional beyond belief. After she died, my flee impulse kicked into overdrive. I needed to go right then and there! I drove home through tear soaked vision, walked in the door, and proclaimed to my wife that Marci was gone. Then I went into our bedroom, closed the door, and let all the bottled sorrow flow out of me.

It’s that experience that defines for me the point when the spirit leaves the body. I know that my dad, my uncles, and my aunt will likely be experiencing that today or very soon. I just hope that someone is there to be with her at her end time.

On Thursday of last week I went to go see her. If she was going to go, she was not going to go without seeing me and I was not going to let her go until I saw her. She was gaunt, mumbling, and agitated, all the while with her eyes closed. Uncles Bill and Bob were there the whole time I was and God only knows how much they were there before and after I left. Most of what she spoke was beyond understanding. She shouted “Billy” a couple times and cursed at least once. She told someone “that they should just shut-up”. We can only assume she meant us.

Before I got up to leave, I went up to grandma and touched her hand. For a second her mumbling was clear… for just two words. Candy bar. I then got the opportunity to do something with my grandma that I had not for a couple years. We had a conversation about nothing. Here is what we said.”

Chad- Grandma, do you want a candy bar?

Grandma - No…no…i don’t want a candy bar…Can I get you something?

Chad - No thanks, grandma. I don’t want a candy bar right now, but I really think you should have a candy bar.

Grandma - No…I don’t want one.

Actually, even though she was nearing the end, she was still ever the superior hostess. In the end she did give me something. The something that I longed for. She spoke to me one last time.

I missed Marci Olson’s last words by a few hours. I missed grandpa’s last words by minutes. Grandma, in her own way, gave me something finite that I can always remember. She spoke to me. Thanks, Grandma.

Aunt Donna said the last she spoke was on Friday. My cousin Heather was there when the clergy came in to pray with her. Even in her limited capacity she dropped into prayer and signed the cross. She always struck me as a devout catholic so it does not surprise me. I think that maybe she was truly there then and this was one of her last preparations for the end. Soon there after she went to sleep and has not really spoken since.

That is where we stand right now on a Thursday afternoon. As far as I know she yet breaths, so I will not refer to her in the past tense yet.