my Betty

2019 June after such a long year of struggle, the months leading up so much so. I was tired, she was tired and having been a part of her dying for weeks by that time- I knew it would be the next day. I called all her grandsons, her other granddaughter- each who loved her more than the next, to come and sit and be with her before she took her last breath.

We sat with her and talked of the past, the stories she most liked to hear. She could not communicate much, but I could tell she could not see death... so weak and tired she was- but what was not there, was fear.

After a few hours the room became too hot, the night became too late, and stories from joyful reminders of the past to realizations of a future that would give us no more stories. Everyone said goodnight.

Through the quiet hours of dark the oxygen machine and I sang to her. I read her Romans, Psalms, and promises of God. I anointed her with oils, filed her nails, rubbed her feet, washed her face over and over until almost 24 hours after our gathering with the four generations she created. I gave her what I knew would be her last dose of medication- and she knew she got eye drops twice a day so I followed the schedule I know her brain was still aware should be. The next hour, I held her hand and closed the door to tell her everything I wanted to say. Her children came in for a few moments and said a few sentences of their own. They went to the kitchen to call and let the nurse know our Betty was shaking quiet disturbingly, I knew what was coming so I wrapped my arms around this woman who loved me the longest- trusted me the most- and as her body died I sang to her... Oh how I love Jesus, weeping out the words; sad for myself but admittedly happy for her. I knew where she was going, but not where I would be without her- and she was one second there with me and in the next, gone.

Necessarily awkward time went by as her family came in.

I changed her into her favorite pajamas while the funeral home staff was on the way, put her fluffy sock on her feet, and I do remember holding her hand, I do remember looking closely at her and wishing so much she looked anyway more like life. The most wonderful gift I have ever received from a stranger was how beautiful and alive and herself the funeral director made her look for that last time we would see her- several people whispered how alive she looked, how significantly more human she seemed. I took a photo from my seat in the front row, it looked like she was napping.

2020 June cleaning out my desk- their lay my old phone untouched for almost a year, I plugged it in and immediately went to the photos. There was my Betty- in that sweater she loved, her hair the perfect shape, rosey cheeks- surrounded by flowers and satin and I felt love.

then I swiped the screen with my finger

the very next 3 frames were of an old, bald looking, grey, slouched faced, pajama covered body... not a person. medical waste. I do not remember taking the picture seeing death- I remember taking the picture thinking how lovely I had gotten her before she would be taken away from us. but death is what i saw there on that screen not my gram, not my Betty, just death in a photograph- and the only time I ever pitied her was as I deleted what I should not have tried to keep.