Right now, I’m sitting in the most wonderful place. This place may feel sad for some. It may make some angry. For others, like me, it’s incredibly peaceful and awe-inspiring.
I’m sitting in a room with my Grannie, listening to labored breathing, holding feverish hands, waiting for her last breaths to be taken.
I don’t want her to go. None of us do. We selfishly want to keep her here with us forever. But it’s her time. The stroke she had a few weeks ago was more than her little body could handle.
Hospice is a beautiful place.
Sitting in this room makes me realize, though, that there is a very special place in this world. It’s the “In Between” and right now I’m sitting in it.
I’m physically sitting here with my mom and Grannie, all of our bodies snuggled safely in this room and cared for by doctors and nurses who only want comfort for the here and now and a peaceful transition to Heaven.
Surrounding us, there are “others” – the ones who protect us all daily. I don’t know who they are. Only Grannie does.
But I do know that I haven’t felt my Charlie’s presence this strongly in a really long time. I know he’s here in this room with us. He’s waiting to jump into his great-Grannie’s arms and be cuddled and rocked until I get there. My Grandaddy is waiting. He’s here, in this room, waiting patiently (like he always has) for her to be ready to reach out her arms to him and walk towards him.
We’re all here – our bodies and souls all swirling together for the last hours in this particular state, waiting for what’s next. Waiting for what’s after the “In Between.”