Layers of Loss

As it tends to happen, I just had THE MOST INCREDIBLE experience (namely, leading a retreat in Portugal), but it was bookended with heartache. 

Before leaving for the retreat, my dear Gram had a serious fall and was gone within a week. Although she wasn’t ever actually terminally ill (which made getting hospice care difficult), she announced to her adult children that she was “not going to recover–she was going to die” with remarkable equanimity and acceptance. Her advanced dementia didn’t cloud this awareness of her mortality and impending death. She was clear and unwavering. And she was right. Within days, she was deeply asleep, never to wake again.

Over a thousand miles apart, I was still able to feel connected. My aunt held up a phone to my Gram’s ear so I could express gratitude for the memories of my childhood. I also read The Velveteen Rabbit aloud, cover-to-cover, which I hope comforted her. I was able to have a “farewell” that felt right.

I’ll carry with me her work ethic, homemade jam recipe, and love of dancing. And I’ll forever cherish the picture book I published, Map of Memory Lane, inspired by an early, impactful conversation we had.

Shortly after returning home from the retreat, my other grandmother (my “Lela” for abuela) was suddenly unresponsive–without any apparent suffering or warning. My mother and I rushed to be by her side. When we arrived, she was already actively dying, but I believe she sensed our presence. I spoke encouragements into her ear. My mom gave her permission to be free from suffering. I played some of her favorite music (Andrea Bocelli) and we held her lovingly as she peacefully drifted from this lifetime.

After she died, I gently washed her face and we stayed close while awaiting her final departure. It was beautiful and heartbreaking.

As it tends to happen, I felt exhausted and shocked in the aftermath of loss. It occurred to me: I was no longer a granddaughter… But I had always been a granddaughter.

How could it be?

I yearned for continued connection. I visited Memory Lane in my mind, and then I searched interviews I had recorded with my Lela back when her dementia was in an earlier phase. What I love most about this audio isn’t the content. It’s hearing her voice, her accent, and her laugh.

These personal moments, memories, and keepsakes confirm to me that connection is everything. Connection to one another, to ourselves, and to our stories. So, let’s have the conversations. Let’s relish our chances to be together.

And let’s capture them while we can, because they might just become the hug your heart needs one day.

Here are some meaningful prompts you can use for life reviews and remembrance messages (from The Death Doula’s Guide to Living Fully and Dying Prepared):