Just LIVE
Dear friends,
I'm writing this letter from my parent's couch in a small town in Germany. I've been on the road since last week Saturday, which is also the reason why I skipped last week's letter.
After spending 4 absolutely amazing days in Paris with my sister (blog post coming soon!), we arrived
Thursday night back at her house in Germany. We were both exhausted, yet happy, and recounted our
adventures to her husband and kids.
Then, on Friday morning, the phone rang. It woke me up, and from my brother-in-law's tone of voice I could tell that something was wrong. I sat up sleepily and asked him what was going on.
"Have some coffee, wake up properly, and then I have to tell you something," he said, handing me a mug of
coffee. Suddenly, I was wide awake, no coffee necessary.
"Why? What's going on?" I asked in alarm.
It had been my mom on the phone. My 87-year old grandma was in the hospital, and had taken a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. Due to her 40+ year history with diabetes, her one leg's circulation had stopped
working, and the only option to save her was to amputate her leg. However, her doctor was concerned that
she wasn't strong enough for the operation. He gave her 2 more days to live.
"Your mom asked if you want to go to the hospital with her," he finished.
"Of course!" I hurriedly got dressed, and then my sister, brother-in-law and I drove the short way to my
parent's store. We picked up mom, and then us three girls went to see grandma.
As it turns out, it was the last time. She was already unconscious, her breathing laboured, her formerly strong
body now small and fragile. Her face looked much younger than her 87 years, pale and tiny, like a child's.
"Say something to her," my sister urged. "Maybe she'll wake up!"
I bent down and whispered: "Oma, it's me, Miriam. I came from Canada to see you! Can you open your eyes?"
Nothing.
I gently stroked her hair and waited, hoping she would wake up.
When she didn't, I bent down again and said: "Are you tired? Do you want to sleep? Keep sleeping. Rest. I
love you." I gave her a kiss on the cheek, and told her I would come back tomorrow.
We were barely home, when the phone rang again.
It was the doctor we had spoken to only an hour earlier.
Shortly after we left my grandma's side, she took her last breath.
My grandma was tired. Over the last 2 years, she slowly lost her zest for life. Always a passionate knitter, she
stopped knitting completely. She quit watching TV, reading books, taking an interest in the world and life. She wished for a quick death, and I'm glad she went the way she wanted to, and that I was able to say goodbye
before she did.
Death is always a lesson for the living. The worst part about my grandma's passing wasn't her death; it was
watching her losing her will to live.
We've talked lots about aging and the purpose of life over the last few days.
I believe that we manifest what we think and talk about, in good ways and in bad.
I have a relative who said all his life that he didn't want to get old. I never knew all his reasons, but due to
his lifestyle choices and the power of his thoughts, he got his wish, and passed away before his 65th birthday.
Oma was spry and fit way into her 80s, before she started to lose her desire to live. Once she did, she was
gone within a year.
I love life. To me it's the greatest gift on earth.
Witnessing loved ones lose that love for life is terrifying. Did they simply get life weary? Tired? Achy?
I know that people need a reason to live, a purpose in life.
I wish for all of us that we never lose our curiosity. That we always keep a sense of wonder.
I wish for all of us an appreciation for beauty: For getting pleasure from a beautiful sunset, a piece of
art, or music, or a pretty flower.
I wish for all of us to have someone to care for, be it animals, plants, or people (or all 3).
I wish for all of us to never stop finding humour in life. To never stop laughing.
I wish for all of us to never stop loving life.
xoxo Miriam
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Vol. 25