This was her response when I asked her if it was too much to continue taking Granny to see Pa multiple times a week in his assisted living facility.
"Can't she go by herself? How long are you going to keep doing this?"
I was worried about my mom's emotional health, and I thought she was taking on too much, as her dad continued to decline.
My mom went with Granny daily at first, then multiple times a week, for over a year, as Pa's dementia worsened. Granny wouldn't go by herself- it was too hard for her to leave Pa- because sometimes he begged her to go home and didn't understand why he needed to stay there.
Granny, Mom, and her sisters had kept him at home as long as they could until it became dangerous to do so. Fortunately, they found a loving, clean facility that was only minutes from Mom's house where Pa could stay. They were continually impressed with the staff there, and it was certainly a blessing to my family.
"It won't be like this forever."
I remember Mom's words so clearly because they held so much. It meant what she was doing was temporary...because Pa wouldn't be like this forever. He would not get better; he would get worse, and eventually he would pass away. Now, I can focus more on that meaning. But then I focused on her, and the fact that she wouldn't have to keep on like this forever.
Despite all of the visits and excellent care while being in the assisted living facility, Pa's condition continued to worsen, and eventually my family decided it was best to move him to the Hospice House so that he could be more comfortable. I think this was the first time my grandmother allowed herself to believe that he may not get better. She had always clung to the hope that he would get back to his old self. Though most would deem this hope illogical, why should she not believe that her husband of 60 plus years would return to normal? She loved him, and we always hope for the best for those we love.
Pa was able to tell Granny that he loved her. I count that a miracle.
The night before he died, Granny sat by his bed and rubbed his hand, as she wanted to stay by his side. One of the Hospice nurses asked if she wanted to get in the bed and lay next to him. I don't think my family had ever thought that was possible, but Granny said, "Yes." She laid there with him until the end, and I can only imagine how special that was to her as he had been away from home for over a year. I count that a miracle.
The next morning, Pa passed away, and one of the nurses said it was one of the most peaceful deaths she'd ever seen. I count that a miracle.
My mom had been with Pa a lot during the days he was at the Hospice House, but she was not there when he passed away. Thankfully, though, she didn't need to be. She had been there with him through everything, and she was the epitome of a "good and faithful servant." She was sad, yes, but even more than this, she rejoiced that Pa was with Jesus. He was more than restored to his former self, as my grandmother had hoped; he was transformed to his eternal self.
Pa meeting Lincoln for the first time
I share this story because those words from my mom, "It won't be like this forever," have continued to resonate with me. On good days, when I am intentional about remembering them, this is the way they speak to me.
When my toddler won't stop whining over the same things every day, I tell myself, "It won't be like this forever," and I have more patience. Because he is a child and those things matter to him, and he deserves my patience.
When he wants me to read one more book, I tell myself, "It won't be like this forever," and I read another book. Because I know that one day I will wish he wants to sit in my lap and read just one more book with me.
When my baby gets up in the middle of the night to eat and I am tired, I tell myself, "It won't be like this forever," and I am able to receive those precious moments with him with joy instead of burden. Because they are precious and time moves too fast sometimes.
When my husband, who is a saint, and I argue because we are physically and emotionally worn out in the midst of these two children, I tell myself, "It won't be like this forever," and I am able to choose kinder words. Because he does more than anyone to help me with these two boys, and he deserves kindness.
I share this with you because I want you to know that whatever difficult thing you are going through won't be this way forever. If you can accept those words, then maybe you, too, can find patience, joy, and kindness in the midst of your trials. These words have given me perspective to see that some of these things that are hard for me now are some of the very same things that I will look back on and treasure.
For better or worse, this world and everything in it are temporary. It is my deepest desire that I do not waste my short time on this earth, so that one day I will hear the sacred words, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" uttered over me as well.
