Storytelling Sunday.... Loss

Today I thought I would share a story of loss. I often follow Sian and her Storytelling Sunday posts. I decided that I would finally participate. This is my story.... 

LOSS

At age 29 I've lost many loved ones. It feels like they were all too soon though. The majority of them happened years ago. Like the wonderful woman in the photographs in this post...my Grandma Betty. 

She was such a great person. She drove a school bus and was a voluntary EMT for the local ambulance service. She actually helped found it. :) She was diagnosed with cancer when she was in her twenties I believe. They treated it with cobalt radiation which left permanent scarring inside her.   It forever affected her life... and eventually caught up to her in 1997 when she was 66 years old. 

Grandma Betty on one of her many travels. 

In January of 1997 a surgery was scheduled to remove some of her bowels to better improve their function. They had been damaged from the cobalt radiation years prior. It was routine we were told... routine. We never imagined in a million years it would be the start of the end for the woman we loved so much. 

When they opened her up it was too late. There was cancer everywhere. All the Doctor could do was close her up and make her comfortable. Keep in mind, in 1997 I was 14 years old and hearing that my grandma was dying was unimaginable. When Grandma's husband, my Grandpa James had died in 1990 it wasn't that it wasn't hard on me, it was that I was younger and didn't understand as much as I did at age 14. I knew what dying was, and what happened to your body when you die. I knew I would never see her again. I was devastated. 

We went to see Grandma a lot while she was in the hospital. I drew her pictures and made cards for her. I also sang songs to her. It was hard to see her and not cry. She didn't want to see us sad, and we didn't want to see her dying. I think what made it so hard was my mother. This was her mom. It changed my mom forever. She has never been the same. 

Grandma Betty with her father, my Great-Grandpa Hartman

On February 6th my mom was once again at the hospital with Grandma while we were at school. My grandma was in and out of a coma. My mom overheard her Aunt Tudy (Grandma's baby sister) tell her that it was okay to go if she needed to. She told her that everyone would understand and not hold it against her. After my mom heard that, she realized that the only way Grandma would be at peace to let go and not hang on, would be for her to tell Grandma as well that it was okay to go. So she did. My mom held her mothers hand and told her that she loved her, would always remember her and all she had done for the family, but that she could go. She told Grandma that hanging on for all of us was hurting us as well as Grandma herself, and that if she was ready, so were we. 

According to my mom Grandma opened her eyes, looked at her then closed them. She never woke up again.  She died 13 days before her 67th birthday. 

My Grandpa James and Grandma Betty with me and my siblings. I am the little girl sitting in the middle between my grandparents. 

I wish I could say that letting go was easy on us. It wasn't. It's easy to say that it's okay for someone to let go... but very hard to accept and practice. Like I mentioned earlier, my mother was never the same. Losing her mother changed her, like I assume it changes many. But when it changed her, it changed the way we were raised, and how we were treated by her. I don't blame anyone for things that happened, I only wish that they had been different. To this day, my mother is not the same as she was when my Grandma was living. Since my Grandma has died, my mother also lost one of her baby brothers to suicide in 2004. She only has one brother left. She often feels she has no one. I wish I could show her she isn't alone. But I think it's a kind of alone that I don't understand, so even us being there doesn't help. We just all try to be there for her as much as we can and listen. It's all we can do. 

Grandma and Grandpa's final resting place. 

Since I don't have grandparents for my children to meet, I try to share as many memories and photos that I can with my own children. I visit the cemetery with them and talk with my grandparents whenever I visit my parents home town. As my kids get older, I will tell them more, and share more. The one thing we have that can never be taken away as long as they are passed down are the memories. Though the loss hurts immensely, the memories can still live on. 

I know not all of this was written as a story... my apologies for getting off track at times. It felt good posting this. I appreciate your time reading. :)