Rainbow Bridge
DAY 1
A profound experience starts today for our family. Jamie Lee Sheils’ grandmother has been given only a few weeks to live. She’s coming home to live with us for her hospice care and final days. She’ll be surrounded by children, animals and plant life. An environment she thrived in years earlier. The hospice director told Jamie he couldn’t think of a greater gift than this. Proud of my wife and the values she lives by.
DAY 2
Today is moving day! Nanny enters hospice care in our home.
I’ve been quiet for a few weeks now. Lots of adulting going on. Contemplative in my decision making. Seeking confirmation from spirit that what I’m doing is the “right” decision for me, for our family. What spirit keeps YELLING at me- a hundred times a day, “IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU, it’s about HER.” And it’s all going to be just fine.
This yelling started outside of me but quickly became my peace, my mantra. A mantra for myself, for my children, for anyone that has ever cared for this woman or met her or met me.
And now it’s for you. It is not about me or you, it’s about her. Whoever her is in your life, let me tell you now, it’s about HER.
People keep asking me, “Are you sure?” and, “Can you handle this?”
And the honest answer is no and no and more no. But HER and YES.
I had no idea what I was doing when I arrived home with my first (or even the fourth) baby, and they’re all doing just fine. Nanny will be just fine as well.
This is a gift we give freely and will no doubt receive in return. I’m excited to see the expansion of compassion this will bring into our hearts and our home. This experience, to care for someone that cared so diligently for us all, will change us forever.
For once, today is about HER.
DAY 4
“In a napping house where everyone is sleeping…”
Except when the sun goes down and it’s bedtime.
Granny gets a solid case of sundowners. When the sun goes down, her mental state changes drastically and she howls in fear and pain. Yesterday, it lasted 12 hours.
Tonight, after a few hours, a kind friend pushed me to call for help. A nurse arrived with new meds and perspective.
This journey is not a straight clean path. But, I’m learning. Maggie lays with me as I watch over Granny through the night. We talk of the rainbow bridge and whether or not you have to adopt the animals there. Alden lingers long and we discuss Granny’s passing as a floating away not a sudden event. Jim holds me and we cry, not for sadness but for overwhelm of the gift of this process.
DAY 7
She is the first patient I’m not able to heal. She is in my home to care for, but not to be made better. Only to become whole upon departure. All the bone broth and essential oils in the world can’t bring this train back to the station. It is such a disconnect to my brain.
We are tired. Newborn baby tired, except more because I can’t co-sleep and nurse this baby. Holding vigil, making comfort, guiding. Knowing – just like my newborns – this won’t last forever.
We flow in and out with our hellos and handholding, our singing and household duties. It’s loud at times, she doesn’t mind. It is life. Every bit of it, and it’s embracing her and telling her she’s lived it all.
We’ve had friends stop by to meet and celebrate Granny. Some stay for a moment, some linger and play with their children as I know she loves the laughter and mischief of little ones in the background. Some friends bring music and art, others food. A beautiful dyed silk in the mail. An outpouring of love and support. A celebration. One night, house full, imagine a campfire sing-a-long, but the light in the room was Nanny. We were gathered around her, singing, dancing, laughing, sharing, crying. When we sang “Blackbird Fly,” she had the biggest smile on her face.
With her still-plentiful hair of black, she is my blackbird.
She has stopped all food and water intake. She is slowly drifting farther and farther from “here” and closer and closer to “there.”Maggie asked if we would be able to see the Rainbow Bridge also as Nanny crosses it. Could you imagine?! I bet Maggie is imagining. And what an image to behold! I was so concerned that this would be traumatic to our children but, instead, it is a beautiful time of humanity and learning.
DAY 9
Jim and the boys are hurrying back this morning from an event in the Keys to be here for Nanny’s final moments. It’s funny how children have a way of changing up plans.
DAY 11
Many many happy memories with this Granny, Mabel Leitheiser. If there is such a thing as a “beautiful” death, this is it. Thanks to her amazing granddaughter, Jamie Lee, my daughter. She moved Granny from a Georgia nursing home to spend her last week around Jamie and her beautiful, loving family. Jamie was her caregiver until hospice took over. I had the opportunity to share in a little of all that and talk about our happy memories and how she was like a mother to me. Jamie says it’s all about her (Granny). Can’t express in words how this touched my soul ❤️. This truly was a beautiful experience for everyone. Bless your heart Jamie Lee, I love you.
DAY 15
How do you tell a life in a few lines?
The obituary is written and, honestly, it’s lame. It’s proper and covers all the bases that Google says to cover and, yet, I still feel as though I’ve failed her. Failed her essence.
But this photo, this moment right here is her legacy. A child that loves her, adoring her even after her last breath. Wondering what incredible magical thing she may be doing next.
Much gratitude for the visitors, food, love and sharing of stories. My life is so full after this experience, even if I can’t begin to express it.
