"May Angels Lead You In."

:"Grandma, Help me!" I squealed in my seven year old sing song voice. I reached my chubby hands skyward as the worn flannel paint shirt sleeve drooped lazily over my wrist. Paint covered the newspaper in giant glops, decorating the black and white print with swirls of red, yellow and blue. More color made it onto my small hands than made it onto the magnificent canvas, a cardboard box. "Hold on a minute!" Grandma's voice replied, smooth as the coffee clutched in her hand. She bent down and gently rolled the sleeve up past my elbows. After settling down into the chair next to me, she picked up a brush and began smoothing out the globs of paint. She worked intently until I sandwiched my body between her and the table and crawled into her lap. My globs slowly smoothed into flowers, hearts and balloons with a few swipes of a brush held in the experienced hands of grandma. I twisted my small body around to face her while still remaining seated. As I gazed up into her eyes blue as the paint on my fingers, I tried desperately to catch her attention. "Hey Grandma, Grandma, Hey!" In my most determined attempt, I snaked my arms around her neck, bringing her face close to mine. "Grandma, I love you!". She set the brush down on the newspaper and wrapped her arms around me. "I love you too, Erin."

The IV tower beeped continuously, signaling an empty bag. Grandma looked tiny in the hospital bed with her legs drawn up close to her and her arms clutching a stuffed animal. The stuffed puppy was an afterthought, a last ditch effort to feel like I was doing something that was important. Her small hands no longer held a paint brush but were painted with the black bruises characteristic of a hospital stay. Two days left until my nineteenth birthday, and she was oblivious. Years before, plans would have been in place for sleepovers the night before my birthday. Cardboard castles would be constructed for the Beauty and the Beast characters on top of my cake. Years before I would have taken for granted a flash of recognition, the calling of my name, the correct structure of a sentence. And yet today, I was content to lay with her, watching whatever show flashing bright colors and catchy oldies songs. “Hey grandma, my boyfriend is coming to visit today, remember him? And I think that the cute nurse is on call tonight. Grandma? Hey there pretty girl.” I ramble. Desperate for eye contact, thirsting for something, anything to signal she knows what I’m talking about. I refused to be put off by the awkward silence. I promised myself I wouldn’t be like most family member and talk around her. I would talk with her, not above her head. Finally, I just stay quiet. I lay closer to her, my head on her shoulder. “Grandma, I love you.” I say in a shaky voice. Her small frame stirred and rolled slightly towards me. “I love you too.”

There are few things in life that “are worth it”. Worth the struggle, worth the aggravation, worth the effort. And then there comes a moment, one single moment in time, when you realize everything wasn’t in vain.
Rest in peace, Grandma. It was worth it all. I am forever indebted to you memory.