I kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand.  “I love you, Grandma.”  I smiled, turned away, and left the room.  I was sobbing before I’d reached the elevator.  I knew I’d never see her again.  This would be the last day I’d spend with her.  I knew she’d soon be going Home.  At 2 o’clock the following morning, October 14, 2019, at the age of 99 ½, Mae VanRy left her earthly home.

I was close to my grandmother.  She, my mother, and I were the three musketeers for years.  When Grandma was still able, the three of us would climb into my car and drive to some place my grandmother remembered.  We’d always find a nice place for lunch and without fail, there would be an antique shop nearby.  We’d spend hours touring the shop, looking at treasures from the past that would trigger memories for my grandmother.  She’d talk about cooking on an old stove, listening to records on the old phonograph, or making bread in an old metal bread machine that looked like a bucket with a hand crank on the lid.  We’d have to stop at the hat rack and try on the hats, striking ridiculous poses that would get us laughing so hard we could hardly breathe.

When her health began to deteriorate, mom and I would pick up lunch and take it to Grandma.  We’d still have our lunch and our laughter.  Grandma would direct us to a photo album or some family heirloom.  The stories would begin – stories of her childhood, of my grandfather, of my mom’s childhood, of the many challenges of living the life of a farming family. I treasure every one of her stories.  Her mind remained sharp and strong, the memories and words of wisdom shared so easily.

It wasn’t until the last few months of her life that her mind started to deteriorate. She would still tell stories, but many times, she told them as if they were current events.  I still listened, enjoying every moment I had with this precious woman.

During the moments when she was mentally “herself,” she would look at me with tears in her eyes and ask “Why does God still have me here?  I’m so ready to go home.”  “For this, Grandma,” I would say, smiling and squeezing her hand.  I know how blessed I am to have had a relationship with all of my grandparents, but the many extra years I’ve had with my grandmother are a double blessing.  The stories she told, the history of my family, are treasures I cherish.

The last day of her life, grandma couldn’t speak.  She slept a lot and seemed to be struggling, but there were moments when she would look into my eyes and a little smile would play on her lips.  I knew she was still with me.  Then, her eyes would flutter, her breathing would change and I knew she was struggling.

“Go to sleep, Grandma.  It’s okay.  I love you.”

I know I am blessed.  I have so many years of memories.  I was also blessed with the chance to say “Good-bye.”