Love and Comfort

Love and Comfort. The only words on her hospital chart. At the time, they were anything but that. They meant the end was near. There was nothing else the nurses could do for her. The first time I read them, my heart shattered. My grandmother had always been the one to comfort me when nobody else understood me. Every time I called to check on her, she asked about my running, knowing it was important to keep moving, always chasing that place that only a few can visit, eternal hope and youth. She understood the importance of holding onto the dreams that most lose as they ‘grow into adulthood.’ She encouraged me to do what I wanted, how I wanted and never make apologies. She was my source of love and comfort.

As I sat with her, that last night, I couldn’t stop sobbing. I couldn’t put into words what she meant to me. She wasn’t conscious but I hope with all my heart that she could feel my presence. In those last moments, how do you tell someone the impact they made on you. Those times riding in the car with her, wearing her most fashionable sunglasses and crooning to Linda Ronstadt had taught me to enjoy life especially with those you love. Cutting the hedges with her and then rolling coins with her and my sisters to take the trips to Toys R Us taught me that hard work was rewarded. She grew roses because they’re beautiful but tough with their thorns. The rose garden in her backyard with that special purple rose bush illustrated that magic was possible. I haven’t seen purple roses since, but knowing that they were my favorite, she would always let me take the blooms home.

Just like the roses and their thorns, she taught me to be beautiful but fierce. She cherished her independence over anything and proudly related to me about the days she worked downtown. When faced with adversity, she’d always tell me to ‘give em hell.’ The gritty determination of that generation of women was underappreciated in their time.

The longer I sat in the hospital room, listening to the steady drip of the morphine, the more accepting I was of those words, love and comfort. She deserved that. As I walked out of the room, saying goodbye for the final time, I took a picture of the chart. I vowed to make those words more meaningful in my own life.