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Some of you may recall my wonderful grandmother, Mimi from a blog or two that i've written about her.  I've always bragged about what a fabulous woman she is and i guess i never really allowed myself to believe that Mimi would ever not be here.  The reality that my grandmother is not going to live forever is sinking in.  Mimi spent 4 weeks in the hospital and finally came home on Good Friday.  A "good" day, indeed, for Mimi was very happy to finally be home again...something Mimi had begun to think would not happen for her.  Mimi has congestive heart failure, her kidneys are failing, she is in pain and has asked a couple of times, "Why is it taking so long for me to die?"  

I find myself in a somewhat familiar place.  When my father was dying, i remember having a quiet moment and thinking to myself, “what am i hoping for?”  I struggled to admit that it was, indirectly, my father’s death that i was hoping would come so that he could have peace and be without pain.  When it becomes abundantly clear that there is no quality of life left for an individual, is it unkind or un-Christian to hope for them to have peace?  Hope is a huge part of life and religion, but is it called “hope” when you are wishing for someone to die?  It seems that it would be lack of hope.  I’m conflicted.

I feel very sad for my mother and her sisters.  They have the task of keeping (or trying to get) Mimi “comfortable“.  After speaking with my mother this morning, it is so clear that she is weary.  She is tired and struggling with the reality that her mother’s life is nearing its end.  I remember how hard it was to make the words, “my father is going to die” in my mind, much less make those words come out of my mouth.  My mother still can’t say it.  

I am 1500 miles away from my mother and Mimi.  I asked my mother if she wanted me to come and she said no...that there is nothing i can do.  

But i know better...i can hope, can’t i?


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