We Didn't Want To Be There

My mom's father, Karl Koyle, passed away the day after his birthday on September 22, 1999. He'd gone in voluntarily for bypass surgery on his heart, and he knew he would not come out of it. In fact, he told Mom on multiple occasions that he wasn't coming home from the hospital. It's strange to me how some people just know when their death is imminent. Grandpa wasn't really upset about it (he was prepared to meet his Maker), but he was worried about Grandma since she was so "forgetful" (a diagnosis of Alzheimer's was imminent). 

Grandma seemed so "normal" at the funeral. She knew exactly the right things to say to everyone. It was afterwards we realized how bad she was when she kept asking where Karl was and why he didn't come home. It nearly killed her kids to have to tell her over and over again that Karl was gone, he'd died, but he still loved her. One of my uncles, I think, came up with the idea to play the funeral tape for Grandma. They thought it would help her remember that there was a funeral. It didn't. She thought they were lying to her about where he was. And then she started to ask why they threw Karl in that hole in the ground. It was so mean to do that to him, and surely he'd be upset and could she just talk to him about it?

I moved in with Grandma for a few weeks after Grandpa died. It was probably in the top ten of most upsetting times of my life. I'd recently returned from college where my bedroom roommate was a schizophrenic that tried to slit her wrists with butter knives (she succeeded one night while doing the dishes and turned the dishrag so tightly in one of the glasses that it shattered and cut her wrists - that was a LONG night at the local hospital ER), walked around the apartment naked, and talked of Sammy Hagar and Eddie Van Halen because they "talked" to her in her sleep. That's a whole different story altogether, but I did awake one night to her standing over me with said butter knives saying that Sammy and Eddie had told her to "slay" me. It wasn't long after that she moved home. For obvious reasons. 

Anyway, Grandma wasn't scary like that, but those experiences were still fairly fresh, so when Grandma would stand over me in the mornings and stare at me until I woke up it was a little freaky. It actually got funny the more it happened. She'd be in her robe and stand there staring at me. Every time my eyes flew open and saw her there like that I "eeked" a little bit out loud. She'd always ask if it was time for toast yet. Toast with pineapple marmalade. It had to be the same breakfast every morning. 

The worst of it came at night. She would become increasingly paranoid during the day. The gas fireplace was suddenly going to burn the house down, people were watching us from outside the windows, and the people on TV somehow knew where we were and what we were doing. By bedtime, the paranoia had significantly increased. If the ceiling fan was on in the bedroom she was convinced that "little men" were going to get her in her sleep. One time I heard her moving around in the bedroom (mine was across the hall), so I went to check on her. As soon as I opened the door the phone came hurdling across the room with incredible speed and force. It was then I had to call her sister, Nadine, and see if she could help me calm Grandma down. It was difficult to see Grandma like that. I didn't last much longer as the live-in caregiver. 

Soon, Mom and her siblings started taking turns staying with Grandma. It was taxing on all of them since they had jobs and families of their own. Mom was in the throes of troubles with her vision at the time, and I remember feeling sick that I couldn't be the one tough enough to care for Grandma so Mom didn't have to. In the end, I think it was good for all of them to love and serve Grandma. She had become so childlike and dependent. Towards the end, my sister and her husband came and lived there with Grandma until she passed away. I know it was taxing for both of them as well. 

We tried to take Grandma on little Saturday outings. It was the norm that Grandma, her sisters, and Mom and I would pile in a car and take a jaunt out to lunch and go shopping. Grandma really enjoyed that time with all of us, but it wasn't long before she couldn't do that anymore. She would get turned around, frustrated, and paranoid about everything going on around her. She also thought she needed to get home to Karl, which about broke all of our hearts knowing he wasn't there. 

It finally got to the point that Grandma's kids realized a secure rest home was the best place for her to be. She'd already fallen and broken an arm on one of the jaunts with Mom and Nadine. While my sister was caring for her, she tripped up a couple of stairs and landed on her face. It bruised her up pretty good. Grandma was also visiting an adult daycare of sorts to give my sister some reprieve during the week. She managed to escape the facility and cross a huge and very busy street by herself. Grandma was later found in a Target store wandering around. It was the eventual deciding factor that we couldn't keep Grandma safe and still keep her in her home. 

Once she got in the rest home things seemed to go pretty well. Grandma made a friend that she could walk down the halls with. They carried their "babies" (dolls) with them everywhere they went and seemed to have a grand time together. Her arm was still healing (she was pretty frail) and her bruised face was starting to look somewhat better. In other words, it wasn't purple and black and blue anymore.  

It's now that I can't really remember the exact sequence of events, but Grandma took another fall and broke her nose really bad. I think that happened at the rest home. There were some other incidents, too, and Mom and I felt like the end was nearer than anyone wanted to admit. We were tired, worn out, frustrated, sad, and needed to get away. We decided to take a trip with Nadine and get out of dodge until the air had cleared a bit and we could see things from a different perspective. 

It was quiet in the car as Mom and I drove the few blocks to Nadine's house to pick her up. We'd decided on a trip to Nauvoo to see Church history sites. We knew it would be calm there, and it was a place where we could collect our thoughts and be renewed. I think we'd planned something like a 12 day trip to drive out there and see everything we possibly could. We left Dad with the express threat that we were not to be "called home" unless something was really, really wrong with Grandma. He obliged and let us go. It took a lot of bravery for him to let us go without a fight. 

When we pulled off from Nadine's house we were all giddy and excited. Those feelings quickly dissipated, and before we got out of town Mom spoke up and said, "We all know Mom (Grandma) will not be here when we get back. She will not make it another 12 days. If you're not okay leaving Utah knowing that than we should turn around and not go on this trip." There was a huge lump in my throat, but she'd vocalized exactly what I was already feeling. From the back seat of the car Nadine said, "Yep, we all know that and we're all fine with it. We don't want to be here when she dies anyway. We've said our goodbyes and she knows how much we love her. What other reason would there be to stay?" 

As sad as it was to continue on that road trip, it was also a relief to know I was in the car with two other strong, vibrant women that felt the same way I did. We knew Grandma's end was near, and we knew we wouldn't be there to witness it, but you know what? It was okay because we didn't want to be there. We wanted to remember Grandma as the kind, funny, quirky, silly, gentle, generous soul she had been all her life. We were tired of seeing her not recognize people or know the names of her children and grandchildren, wonder where Karl was, and try to figure out what was going on around her. That was not her, and we knew it. Why say goodbye to her in that state when it would simply be for our benefit? Grandma wouldn't know the difference, and as it was, we'd already said our goodbyes to the woman we knew and loved. She had been leaving or gone for years now anyway. 

I'm not even sure what sites we saw on the way to Nauvoo, but I do remember that we checked into a hotel one night, July 25, around 5:00 p.m. We'd been in touch with Dad regularly and knew the status on Grandma. He was quite open with us about developments and things that had been going on at the rest home and with the family. Often, we would tell him we'd heard enough to know what we needed to know. He was so kind and gentle in the way he told us everything, and he obliged when we asked him to talk about something else. It was just as hard for Dad as it was for any of us. He loved Grandpa and Grandma like his own parents. He loved them deeply. 

That night over the phone at the hotel Dad said, "I think you should start home. Things are not good here. She's not doing well. They've brought her home from the rest home, and she's not responding to anyone or anything." She'd taken another fall, and from what I remember, she'd broken a rib and had come down with pneumonia, which there would be no recovering from in her already weakened state. I can still see the look of gloom on Mom's face. Nadine had been in the bathroom while Mom made the regular check-in call to Dad. As soon as Nadine came out of the bathroom Mom told her the situation. We all three sat in silence on the beds in the hotel and just stared at the floor or at each other. It was like time stopped as we pondered about what to do. We would each throw out our thoughts and then sit quietly as we stewed over what to do. Mom talked with Dad again by phone, and again he urged us to come home. 

Finally, Mom said, "We know we won't make it home in time to say goodbye, but I think we should turn around, go home, and forget our vacation plans. They will need help planning the funeral, and we ought to be there to support those who will have a hard time with her passing." Nadine and I nodded, grabbed our stuff, and checked out of the hotel. 

Mom couldn't drive at night because of her vision problems, so she opted for the first driving "shift" while I climbed in the back of the car and tried to sleep. We still had the car set on Utah time, and it was about 4-5 minutes fast. It's one of those small details you don't forget. We had piled in the car around 7:00, stopped for a bite of fast food dinner, and then intended to drive straight through until we got home. 

I couldn't sleep. It just wouldn't come. I was weary and worn out - emotionally and physically. You'd think the exhaustion would have shut my eyes so deeply that a bull horn couldn't have shaken me. It wasn't so. My thoughts were rumbling around in my head making no sense and drawing no conclusions. It was 10 short months ago that we had buried Grandpa, and now here we were again working on funeral arrangements and putting Grandma in the ground beside him. It was where she wanted to be. I was relieved for her, sad for us, and plain mad that life had to be so unfair to someone as good as my Grandma. 

I looked at the (too fast) clock and it said 8:08. I closed my eyes again and this time silently prayed my heart out. It went something like this (only longer): "Heavenly Father," I said, "we know that Grandma has been in a lot of pain. We know she can't remember us. We know she has missed Grandpa since the minute he arrived in Your care. She is not the same person she was because of the disease that has ravaged her mind. We don't need to be there in order for her to come home to You. The others might need to be there, but we don't. We are okay if she is ready to come home to You without us saying a formal goodbye. She knows how much we love her and how much we will miss her. Please don't allow her to suffer longer than necessary or to hang on until we get there. We don't need to be there and we don't want to be there as she leaves this mortal life. Please help her know it's okay that she leaves without us being there to say goodbye." 

When I opened my eyes from the prayer the clock said 8:12. I watched it change to 8:13, then closed my eyes again, and with moisture slowly filling them, I fell asleep. A couple of hours later, Mom woke me and said she couldn't drive any longer. It was dark outside, and she couldn't see well enough to drive. I knew she was exhausted in every way possible, so we situated the back seat in order for her to be comfortable, and I drove the rest of the way home with Nadine in the front seat. It was another 19 1/2 very long hours. We arrived home the next evening (July 26) a little after 5 p.m. 

It was strange - that whole experience. Every time we stopped for gas we would see a highway patrolman. We thought it was a little odd, but didn't think much of it. Honestly, we were happy to see so many of them on the roads because it made us feel safe. Someone later mentioned that maybe Dad had called the highway patrol to let them know the circumstances and ask that we not be pulled over if we were caught speeding. We didn't speed, and I never did confirm with Dad whether or not he had done that. I was able to stay awake and alert the entire time I drove, even though I don't really remember much of the drive. Nadine stayed awake and talked to me much of the time. 

It was bitter sweet as we pulled into the driveway at home. We'd had so much fun together laughing, eating, talking, reminiscing, and getting away from everything and everyone. We were so glad for the time we had together, and yet we were also glad in some ways to be home. We found out later Grandma had died at almost exactly 8:12. A sense of relief and a feeling of peace entered my heart as I realized that was the exact time I had ended my prayer giving "permission" for Heavenly Father to allow Grandma to come home and be reunited with Grandpa. I still believe Grandma was privy to that prayer and was grateful to be released instead of being asked to hang on until we got there. 

I remember that a lot of the family was upset with Dad. It didn't make sense to me. Mom finally explained that nobody believed him when he told them he was constantly in touch with us and letting us know what was happening. They thought he should have pushed us to come home sooner. They thought we should have been there when Grandma died. After all, the whole family was there when she passed. I remember thinking, "Isn't having the whole family there enough? Why did we need to be there, too?" 

Dad told us the basics about what happened after they brought Grandma home. We were more than glad we weren't there. I remember feeling sorry that everyone thought Dad had done something wrong. We even tried to reassure people that Dad had done exactly as we had asked. They wouldn't listen, and feelings of anger stuck around for a while. It was like we had turned our backs on the entire family by not being there. In reality, it was such a peaceful experience for the three of us, and even to this day none of us would trade the way things happened. It just goes to show we all see things from our own perspective. And I hope Dad knows how much we appreciate him for doing exactly as we asked. It wasn't easy!

In the end, I realize what a blessing that little "vacation" was with Mom and Nadine. It helped me understand that life goes on even when hard things have happened or continue to happen. I'm still convinced that Grandma heard my prayers and realized we were okay with her leaving when she did. We still don't regret a minute of taking that "time out" from life, and in reality, it probably saved each of our sanity. I hope someday that others will understand our intentions were pure and not selfish. We didn't plan for things to happen the way they did, but we were definitely okay with the way things ended. And I'm certain that Grandma was happy to see her Karl again and be reunited with loved ones. She had many more people waiting on the other side of the veil than she did watching at her bedside as she passed. What a blessing to know that, and to know we will see her again.