Forgiveness

    My first experience with mortality was with my grandmother and believe me it was scathing. It has been etched unwavering in my memory for years.

   Try as I might I cannot unsee it.

    We didn't live near them, and because our visits depended upon on my grandfather's generosity they were annual ones.  The last several years up until, and then after my grandfather's passing, had left big gaps in our visits. Maybe it was that gaps, or maybe even my own immaturity but I was not prepared to cope with that visit to my grandmother that day. I could not handle not only viewing her debilitating illness, but also finding her so altered. I broke down in sobs, and could not compose myself. (I am embarrassed even now when I think about this).  

     My grandmother gave hugs that pulled you in tight. She had warm, doughy arms that kept you safe, and a laugh that was both throaty and delightful. As I stood in the doorway of that room of the convalescent hospital I was frozen. This emaciated, gnarled up figure was not my grandmother! All that remained were those piercing blue eyes.

   For so many years I have thought back to that moment and wished with all my heart, that I could go back in time, and do that hospital visit differently. Oh, how I wished I could walk back into that room, and have a "do over." This time I would control my emotions, and instead be an emotional support to my grandmother. And to this day, whenever I visit a loved one who is terminally ill, I inevitably reflect back to that moment with my grandmother, and realize how I betrayed her. She knew just how sick she was based on my emotional reaction.

   As an adult, and someone who has had now so much more experience with illness, and death I can now finally forgive myself, just as I know my grandmother already did during our visit so long ago.