Epilogue

Truth be told I am still sad.  I ask my husband regularly if it's normal to be so sad.  I feel like I am dwelling and I loathe dwellers.  But we lived with nana. Nana took me on my first vacation. My first airplane ride was with Nana. My first trip to Disney was with Nana. My first time touching the ocean and feeling the sand was with Nana. Twenty-six Christmas mornings were with Nana. Birthdays. Sundays. America's Funniest Home Videos. The Bold and the Beautiful. First dog. Second.  Third. Fourth. Fifth. Homework. Graduation. Halloween. Making plain old sweatshirts into beautifully painted shirts. Wheel of Fortune. Hours, no, a lifetime of advice. Heartbreak and excitement. Fear and safety. Teaching me the right way to wrap Christmas presents. Pinball. Tasty cake cupcakes. Chocolate milk. Foot rubs. Getting us out of trouble. Car rides to the bank for a lollipop and Burger King on the way back. Nana waited in line with me for the Wii to launch. Nana told me that experience is a lousy teacher because she gives the test before she teaches the lesson. Boy, was Nana right on that one.  

Nana was literally a part of my every day for my entire childhood. I didn't move out until I was 22, and it just so happened that was the year I had my heart broken. So I spent all my time with her anyway. Dwelling? I don't know. I don't know. 

I was four minutes late getting to the nursing home in time before my Nana passed away. Four effing minutes. That's not even the length of a decent song. I could not drive any faster.  I couldn't find keys. I couldn't get my boots on. I couldn't move. There were 240 seconds that made such a infinite difference in what I think is fair and unfair. Nana did absolutely everything she could for me and I couldn't feckin' make it. Pissed is an understatement. It was close to two in the morning when I got to her room.  Every other resident in her wing was asleep and when I saw her I yelled, maybe screamed, "that's it?!" My mom and my auntie said "that's it," with tears in their eyes. The entire world faded away and I ached. My god. Did I ache.  

 I knew on my way there I wouldn't make it on time. I was driving way too fast and I said, "Nana, just wait. Please just wait and let me say I love you, just in case you forgot." Then the biggest, fluffiest snowflake plopped on my window. "I love you, too," popped into my head in her voice.  And I knew, by that snowflake, I was going to be too late. 

I know now why I wasn't there.  I would not have been able to let her go.  I would have been pleading and begging for help, which she didn't want. I would have made it harder on everyone else.  I am hopelessly optimistic and I would have been losing my mind to not doing anything, and I think I'd be living with guilt, regardless of what was inevitable and what nana wanted. To see that would have killed me. It took two full weeks, but I am at peace with the way my timeline happened. In fact, I came to this realization Saturday evening while trying to sleep - I don't remember anything else about my dream Saturday night except Nana's face here and there, and hearing "Let It Be" playing on repeat. It will be all right.   

The rest of the night that Nana found peace  is important, but it's no one's business.  My older sister got there and then my brother got there. There we were. The four kids who were lucky enough to have so much of her for our entire lives. Just sitting there broken. She was our first best friend. Lost puppies. That's what we were. (My mom and my auntie were there, but they had their own kind of hurt.  A hurt that I will never be ready for, although it has to be so similar.) 

When watching kids play football when we were growing up, and actually to this day, my mom always says how she feels bad for the team that loses, even when it's our team who wins.  "It's just sad that someone has to lose.  These kids tried so hard." Back to now. Eventually, we had to leave the nursing home. They couldn't proceed with arrangements if we were still in the building. We hung around for hours, just waiting. But finally we were told (nicely!) that we really had to leave.  My sisters were in the front of the line. My mom and my brother just a head of me and my auntie. Our heads  were hanging low and our hearts were heavy. I can't imagine that we hid our loss well. The nurses were kind and they smiled at us as we were leaving. They knew.  They know what door opens when the funeral home comes, and it was 4:30 in the morning, not really party time in the nursing home. They know, all too well, that someone has to lose. Looking back, we were the team that was defeated that night  by Father Time, who took our quarterback.  Our team's most valuable and loved player.  A beautiful and sad loss at the same time.  Let me tell you though, Nana played one helluva game and it is an honor to be a part of her team. 

💔🌹❤️