Part of My Story

My Grandma was living with us at the time she died.

As usual, I arrived home from high school and the daycare lady left. As my younger siblings were still at school and both of my parents worked, I would care for Grandma until the rest of the family arrived home for the day. I would be preparing dinner or doing homework and intermittently check on Grandma as she rested in her bed. The second time I checked on her there was something wrong. I urgently telephoned my Mom and then dialed 911.

Firemen attended Grandma while I stood at the foot of the bed. There was an oxygen mask in place and the oxygen hissed unused into the room. The young Fireman asked the Fire Chief, “Should I turn off the oxygen?” The Fire Chief shook his head slightly and tilted his chin in my direction. The young Fireman flushed dropping his head slightly.

At the time I was unaware of what that meant. I stood there, holding the foot board. The atmosphere began to feel lighter and dense at the same time, almost like a cocooning, I felt hands on my shoulders and heard a woman’s voice near my right ear say, “Everything is fine. Everything will be okay.” I was now calm and let go of my worries.

I felt the hands fall away. I turned thinking it was my Mom, but no one was there. I stepped into the hallway to see where she went, but, again, no one was there. I hurried down the hallway towards the living room and heard running footsteps coming up the front walk. There was my Mom, rushing into the house! Those hands had been my Grandmother’s. She had calmly reassured me with a quiet certainty of the outcome.