On Saturday afternoon, I was working like I do every Saturday afternoon.
I got a desperate call from my husband telling me that his grandmother had a stroke, which was causing a brain hemmorhage and she wouldn't last through the night.
As soon as we could, we rushed over to see her. Since there was nothing they could do, they transferred her from the hospital to the hospice. She looked so peaceful. Like she was sleeping. And she was absolutely beautiful. The sight of a woman who had lived her life right and would soon be seeing her Father in Heaven.
Being there at the end was difficult. There was not a dry eye in the room. I leaned over to my husband and said something like this:
Isn't it ironic? We are all devestated while she must be so happy. She gets to see Heavenly Father and all her friends and family that have gone before her.
Her time is done. Her test has finished. She's made it to the end!
Since my grandparents have always lived so far away, I haven't had the chance to cultivate relationships with my granparents to the degree Clint has. In this short time, they've become family to me. I'm grateful for the time I've been able to spend with her and the rest of his grandparents.
That being said, her funeral is this weekend...which happens to be the same weekend I've been planning on going to disneyland with my mom, sister, niece, and nephew for months. Basically for over a year since the last time we went. It's all planned and paid for. But what to do? I had decided that I would miss Disneyland. When I talked to him about it, he had the opposite idea. He had known how excited I have been for so long and wouldn't have me miss it.
But still, I'm torn.
I want to be there for my husband. And I want to be able to attend the service. I really have come to love her.
What we've decided is that I would go ahead and go...but if he wanted me back all he'd have to do is give me a call and I'd be on the next flight out. And he can call me at any point. He said that the hardest part is over and I was there for that. But still, I have guilt. What if he wants me back but doesn't call? I feel guilty for going on vacation while such events are going on at home. I've been frantically trying to get everything taken care of for him as best I can. All the laundry is done. I've made meals for him ahead of time. Cleaned. But I still have wife guilt. The dreaded wife guilt.