My paternal grandmother was a kind, warm, affectionate woman. She told the best stories, she spoke her mind, and had she the funniest taste in gifts. A girl can only recieve so many sweatshirts with painted cats and birds on them before it gets funny! She had the softest skin, and always smelled delightful thanks to her collection of wonderful perfumes. Her voice was gravely, as was her laugh. She was always there for me, let me borrow her books, and never shied away from real conversations. We had a wonderful connection. A close connection

We, DH and I, first found out we were pregnant with DS living miles and miles, and 3 states away from the rest of our families. Grandma included. So when Grandma was struck ill, it was quite frustrating to be so far away. I often wished to be teleported to her side, just for a quick kiss hello. Grandma, however was often delirious, and probably wouldn't have known me anyway.

As luck would have it she bounced back right before we visited next. I was 3-4 months pregnant. We had a terrific visit, and she was extremely excited about her upcoming great-grandchild. I was just relieved she was herself again.

2 weeks later she was back in the hospital again. She had dementia and possibly a stroke though that would never be confirmed. Under many drugs she was somewhat functional, but would live in a nursing facility from then on. Living in a nursing home depressed her deeply, and soon after she couldn't even carry on a conversation on the phone.

When DS was about 6 mo, we went back to visit again. I was ecstatic that she and he would meet. Meet they did. I will never forget it.

She was in the cafeteria when we all arrived. My mom, my sister, and my family. There the nurses pointed out a frail woman they claimed to be my grandmother. A woman who was half the size she used to be, with little ability to communicate, and just as much fear in her eyes, as was in mine.

Sad to say, but all of a sudden I didn't want to be there, and I didn't want to see her....like that. Not having been there to see the transformation day by day like the rest of our family really threw me for a loop. Being the good girl I was, I plastered a smile on, made idle chit-chat, and pretended nothing was amiss. I was thinking the entire time "I don't know this woman." "Where is my Grandma." When we left I felt relieved.

The next time we would go see her she was heavily sedated, and asleep.

The time after that she was comatose.

Two days later she died.

I regret that day I got to see her on every level. Missing her is agony. I would give anything to go back and hold her soft hand and lay my cheek on her shoulder. a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. In my life I only regret one thing, and that fake smile and fearful heart is it. How could I let that moment, the last REAL moment I shared with her go to waste? Looking back, I have no idea.

I will be damned if I ever let that happen again. Obviously, this post is for my Grandma, whom I am missing like crazy, right at this moment.