Veronica

1952. Veronica is back row, center.

It would take a novel and then some to tell you about my Gram – about who she is and how very much she is loved and everything she means to our family and the legacy she has already left for everyone who has been honored enough to know her. The way I mother my boys is a testament to that. 

Despite a 3rd grade education and English as a fourth language after she immigrated to Canada 93 years ago, she accomplished more in her life than most. Sadly, the past 3 years of her life have mostly been spent in darkness since she can no longer see more than shadows and quiet since her hearing is all but entirely gone. Dementia has taken most of the rest in the past year.

And now she is dying – slowly. Her kidneys are failing and she has a respiratory infection. My Gram is in a lot of pain, despite sedation. She is 99 years old.

My mom called me in tears yesterday and asked me to pray that God would deliver her into His arms, which I did. My Gram has fought her way back a few times over the past decade and I never doubted she would, but now is... different. There is no recovery when your vital organs start shutting down.

She's frightened since she doesn't know who or where she is, and she's in a great deal of pain despite sedation. She's been combative, understandably. No one, least of all Gram, would want this for themselves – so today I am asking anyone reading this for prayers and peaceful thoughts that her passing is soon and as gentle as possible.

• • • • • • • 

Gram has lived an incredible life and with the exception of the past couple of years at least had her wits about her despite living in a dark and quiet world. And she's been happy and surprisingly mobile.

At 96 she was still living in her own apartment with an assistant that came by once a week for baths and light cleaning. She was 97 and living in a care facility when my boys were born and was still quite sentient. A few months later she started asking when her parents were coming to visit and after that things went steeply downhill.

Yesterday when my mom went to visit her, the staff asked for the first time if funeral arrangements were in order and said Gram could pass tomorrow or a month from now. When I spoke to my mom last night I said, "well, it's Gram so you know it's going to be at least 3 months" and we had a sigh and a little laugh, but also it's probably true and so it broke our hearts too.

Dementia stole her away nearly completely this past year. Coupled with her very limited hearing, if she was talking at all it was about events of the distant past. Of course, a great deal of what she had to say was also gibberish, mixed with paranoia and fear – each of these hallmarks of a cruel disease.

Two weeks ago out of the blue she asked about "the twins" which are, of course, my boys. This fairly recent memory somehow surfaced for her and I know how very much she loved knowing I was pregnant and was having twins. We were all surprised that she was able to recall any of it though, given everything. Perhaps it was because she'd about given up hope that I would ever have a child – much less two – when I became a mom. I know how much she always enjoyed stories about them when she still had a foothold in reality and was able to still hear at least a little.

• • • • • • • 

When I first heard the song "Veronica" years ago, I loved the tune but frankly, it didn't strike much of a chord otherwise despite the name. At the time, the woman in the song couldn't have been more different than my Gram.

Over the past few years, however, it's become fairly poignant and never more so than right now.

- L.

PS. There's a story in the picture that I can't quite recall other than that it had to do with some chickens that went south on her eldest daughter's wedding day and that when the photo was taken she was busy thinking about those chickens. Maybe Gamma Rita can fill in the details in comments.