The Last Friday

This is the only thought that bothers me...ever. Every other single memory I have is so joyful, so happy. But this one...it bothers me...sometimes.

It was at this very time on this very Friday last year when I sat on Grandma V's hospital bed and held her in my arms. It was the last time she said my name. It was the last time I saw her pretty eyes. It was the last time I heard her sweet voice. The last time I hugged her. The last time she hugged me back. Oh, if I had only known...

If I had only known, I would have never come back to work that day. If I had only known, I would have stayed there with her and held her and loved her so much more. I would have gone back up there on Saturday, as I had planned -- but didn't. I would have gone up there again on Sunday. Instead, I asked someone how she was doing, and I was told that I needed to be at home with my babies, so I didn't go. As it stands now, that is one of my biggest regrets in my life, ever.

I can vividly remember running into Dad & Gloria when I got there that Friday afternoon. Dad said, "Go see if she knows who you are," and Gloria nodded in agreement. I walked in the room and softly said, "Hey...what's going on in here?" She looked up, opened her eyes for a brief second, then squeezed them shut and began crying, "Oh, Sarah! Sarah, hold me! Hold me, Sarah!"

I wrapped my arms around her and held her sweet head with my hands. I whispered in her ear and told her everything was just fine. I calmed her down by softly humming "There's Something About That Name." Once I had her quiet, I asked, "Grandma, why are you so upset?"

She responded, "They're all coming to get me!!!" So I asked, "Who is coming to get you?"

"Everyone! They're going to take me away!!!" By this time, I was weeping because I wanted nothing more than for her to be comforted. I couldn't tell if she was in pain or simply having 'nightmares.' I hugged her tight and I said, "Grandma, nobody can harm you." She whimpered a little and faintly mumbled, "I know." I went on, trying to calm her, "You know all these years you have gone to church...and these past few years when I've had panic attacks, you always tell me I have nothing to be afraid of. If they are scaring you, tell Jesus to make them go away..."

To that, she replied, "I did. He is with them."

At that moment, the multitudes were preparing to take her Home. I believe that with all my heart. I believe she knew what was happening. She knew she was going Home, and she was ready -- but she was struggling with letting go of those she loved here.

I couldn't speak anymore because the tears were in my way. But, if I could have, I would have told her to have a blast and make sure my mansion was somewhere close to hers. Instead, I just held her. Cried with her. I told her it was time for me to go back to work, and she put a death grip on my arms and wouldn't let me move. Finally, about 20 minutes later, she quieted down and fell asleep in my arms. I kissed her head, and I was able to sneak away.

This was my goodbye with Grandma. I am forever grateful for that very special "lunch" with her. While I was able to hug her, kiss her, talk to her, sing to her, and love on her, I just wish I would have known it was the last.