You think whenever someone is gone that you're going to remember everything about them. Specifically how they look. ... or maybe you don't? But I'll always remember hands. People's hands are something that catches my eye, no matter what I'm doing. Hands and certain sounds - weird, I know - right? Super weird considering I have been a consistent nail biter up until about 3-4 years ago. Being a nail biter you would think I wouldn't care too much about my hands, which may be true - but I often find myself sitting and think about her hands, their hands, and how I miss being about to look at them.
It's funny now because then I didn't realize while I was looking at her vein placement (I wasn't even a nurse at the time), and the frailty of her skin that it would be something that I would remember for a while to come. I didn't know that her fingernails would always seems so thick and beautiful when polished with the clear coat, even though she could no longer write or cook with those hands, that they were still beautiful. Her hands had raised a family, children, grandchildren, and here I was - her oldest great-grandchild. Losing her was hard. I didn't keep in touch with her like I should've. I confess, I often ignored her phone calls because with her decaying mind, she often asked me the same questions over and over again - mostly, "How's the baby?" or "When are you coming home?" By this time, I was a nurse - maybe I was in a bit of denial myself. I see it daily with caregiver stress. Maybe I couldn't accept the fact that I was losing her and how I knew it was eventually going to end.
I got the call on a Saturday morning. I had prepared to go get groceries that morning but before I could get out the door, I got a call that it was time. She was asking for "the baby". Her great-great-granddaughter that I had given her. So, we left and headed home. I don't remember the near 9-10 hour trip - but, I do remember walking into that hospital room and seeing her sunken cheeks and immensely regretting all those ignored phone calls, missed "I love you's" that I didn't say over the last years, and visits I didn't make because I was "too busy".
Life is full of regret.
I looked at her hands. I touched her face. I kissed her. I told her I loved her. But she wasn't there anymore... she passed away the next day; on Sunday, her favorite day.
"The regret of my life is that I have not said 'I love you' often enough." Yoko Ono
It's funny now because then I didn't realize while I was looking at her vein placement (I wasn't even a nurse at the time), and the frailty of her skin that it would be something that I would remember for a while to come. I didn't know that her fingernails would always seems so thick and beautiful when polished with the clear coat, even though she could no longer write or cook with those hands, that they were still beautiful. Her hands had raised a family, children, grandchildren, and here I was - her oldest great-grandchild. Losing her was hard. I didn't keep in touch with her like I should've. I confess, I often ignored her phone calls because with her decaying mind, she often asked me the same questions over and over again - mostly, "How's the baby?" or "When are you coming home?" By this time, I was a nurse - maybe I was in a bit of denial myself. I see it daily with caregiver stress. Maybe I couldn't accept the fact that I was losing her and how I knew it was eventually going to end.
I got the call on a Saturday morning. I had prepared to go get groceries that morning but before I could get out the door, I got a call that it was time. She was asking for "the baby". Her great-great-granddaughter that I had given her. So, we left and headed home. I don't remember the near 9-10 hour trip - but, I do remember walking into that hospital room and seeing her sunken cheeks and immensely regretting all those ignored phone calls, missed "I love you's" that I didn't say over the last years, and visits I didn't make because I was "too busy".
Life is full of regret.
I looked at her hands. I touched her face. I kissed her. I told her I loved her. But she wasn't there anymore... she passed away the next day; on Sunday, her favorite day.
"The regret of my life is that I have not said 'I love you' often enough." Yoko Ono
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