Please Go Gentle Into That Good Night

My grandmother was a great influence in my life growing up. She was warm and she was home. She was the ultimate comfort and a symbol of strength. I loved her dearly.

On December 20, 1993 my grandmother had a stroke. You know how life changing days stick with you for the rest of your life? That date will forever be stuck in my being. My grandmother was never the same. The stroke affected the left side of her brain; consequently her right side was paralyzed and she was never able to speak words, again. After months of physical therapy and speech therapy we had to surrender to the fact that she simply wasn't going to get any better. She lived the rest of her days in a nursing home, powered by her left foot and a wheelchair. It was the experiences during those years that made me realize I wanted to be a nurse. But this really isn't about her final years, months, weeks or even days. It's about her final night.

I turned off Jay Leno and took one last look at her. She was sleeping; peacefully it seemed, with the dull hum of the oxygen concentrator in the background. My experience as a hospice aid told me it wouldn't be much longer. She had not been awake since yesterday and her breathing was much slower. I pushed back in the metal recliner chair and pulled the blanket up to my chin. I dozed off and on until about 3am.

I woke to the sound of my grandmother. She was awake and hungry. I walked out to the nursing station and asked if she could have something to eat. She ate a cheese salad sandwich and a cup of ice cream. As I fed it to her, we "talked." Well, mostly I talked, she listened and nodded. After she ate, she laid back down and closed her eyes. As she started to drift in and out of consciousness I remember encouraging her to let go.

"It's ok grandma, you can go on. They are all here for you waiting to take you back with them. It's ok, I'll be ok, it's ok to go with them. I love you."

The previous night she was signaling towards the ceiling in a half moon motion. After a little questioning, we realized she was seeing already deceased family members. This is an extremely common phenomenon during the final hours on this earth. I had seen it happen before, so it didn't come as a surprise when she started seeing her son, her husband and even her mother.

It was about 4am and she was sleeping soundly. I settled back in my chair, unable to really get comfortable and certainly not able to sleep. I heard humming. Not the mechanical hum the oxygen concentrator this time, but a female melodic humming. I checked my grandmother's roommate; she was sound asleep. I walked out of the room into the hallway, and it was gone. I walked back in the room, and there it was again. I stayed for another four hours and then went home to take a shower, change clothes and grab a bite to eat.

When I arrived home, my mother was getting ready to go to the nursing home. I explained the events of the night. I then casually mentioned the odd humming I heard. A look of disbelief came over my mother's face.

"What is it mom? What's wrong?"

"My grandmother ALWAYS hummed little tunes."

She went on to say that her grandmother also said if a picture fell off a wall, there was going to be a death in the family. That morning a picture in the hall crashed to the floor.

I was out of the shower about 15 minutes when the telephone rang. It was the nurses at the nursing home telling us my grandmother was gone.

I truly believe it was too difficult for her to go with me at her side. She had to wait until I left to let go.

Thirteen years ago this week, my grandmother passed away. I remember it like it was yesterday and probably always will.