A Rare Glimpse Of Grace

“Courage is grace under pressure.” — Ernest Hemingway

I feel a tiny bit relieved after seeing Gina today. My sister graciously volunteered to accompany me on the 2 hour drive and to be there with me for moral support. I’ve always been notoriously uncomfortable, anxious and many times, even nauseous, in hospitals, doctor’s offices and nursing homes. That was then. That was when we all spent most of our time in these places. That was when my father was sick.

It appears that I’ve grown quite a bit since then. I was anxious about going. I was afraid of how she would look. I was afraid she would be suffering. I was afraid she would be completely out of it. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to say goodbye. My sister and I talked about this all at length during the long drive.

The hospital Gina is in is amazing. It’s beautiful and peaceful. The staff is more accommodating than any other hospital I’ve ever been in. She’s in the best possible hands.

Her room was overflowing with people. People who love her. Family and close friends. They all graciously announced my arrival and stepped aside, allowing me to enter her room. She didn’t look nearly as bad as I had envisioned. After I carefully hugged her and we had a brief whispered conversation, I stepped away from the bed and she resumed the conversation with the group that I had inadvertently interrupted.

The doctors have said that she has a week, week and a half at best. She knows this. She was telling stories. Things that remind her of the people in her room. Stories about them that she remembers fondly. It was incredibly touching and gracious. She was saying goodbye.

My sister and I stayed for several hours. We talked with various friends and family members. We talked with Gina. I felt a tiny bit relieved to see first-hand that she is not in unbearable emotional or physical pain. They are keeping her comfortable. The combination of pain-killers and her body shutting down appear to be sparing her from the extreme emotional pain I would imagine goes along with the knowledge that she is dying. I got to tell her how much I love her. I got to say goodbye.

As has always been the case she seemed more focused on how everyone else was doing. It felt like a somber party with her as our hostess. There was laughter and there were tears. Everyone there was open and honest. No one was pretending everything was ok. Everyone was doing what they could for her and each other. We all seemed to be working on reassuring ourselves about her level of comfort while at the same time coming to terms with the fact that we may never see her again. Her grace helped me a great deal today, as it always has the entire time I’ve known her.

Her kids were on their way with their grandmother. It was getting late and we had a long drive home. It was time for my sister and I to leave. If she’s still there I’m going back on Friday. I went into her room to say goodbye but Gina had fallen asleep. She looked peaceful. She looked beautiful. I watched her for a few seconds. I hope I get to see her again on Friday but if not, I am eternally grateful that I got to say goodbye today.

Thanks for stopping by.

Related Reading:

Just Grace

What's So Amazing About Grace?

Good Grief

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