Well, today was tough. We lost a strong, remarkable woman, my grandmother, Gladys. She was 98 years old, and passed surrounded by her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren.
Yesterday, we prepared for the worst. She stopped eating, talking, and as the day passed, her breathing grew more labored. If you’ve never heard the “death rattle”, you’ve never heard a more terrible sound. I spent the night in her room, with other restless relatives, including my sister Elle James, filtering in and out to see whether she was still with us.
But grandma was waiting for her favorite grandchild, my cousin Brent Archer, to come in from Seattle.
Today, the clouds filled the sky. She left not long after Brent arrived. It rained when the funeral home’s van drove away with her.
The past months have been difficult for everyone, but especially for my dd and I. We cared for her every need, around the clock. I’m fiercely glad we had that time with her.
Love you, Grandma. RIP.
BTW, my mom painted that portrait of her.
