1.  Count to ten.

2.  Breathe.

3.  Count to 20.

4.  Hold her place.

My grandmother, Charlette Mary ("Char"), passed easily prior to noon on Friday, July 30th.  She is the bravest woman I know, and her death nothing less than beautiful.  The nearly exclusive two weeks we spent with her in the process, defy description at this point, but have swelled our hearts beyond full. 

Her last words to me were "night-night," on the Thursday evening prior to her passing, an evening during which she was still conversing with us, still smiling, still aware but also knowing (judged by my last hand-holding with her) that she would not be speaking to us again by morning. 

By Friday morning, Grandma was sleeping deeply, and "slipped away peacefully," as people are prone to say (or hope that it will be), but she really, really did "slip away" as she slept.

An unfortunate turn of events soon after her death, and brewing in the background this past several weeks, has been some legal battling between her children ... her youngest son (my uncle) and her daughter (my mother).  As the weeks progressed, it was easy to ignore the undertow, not at all involved, and ten times more concerned about our remaining days with Grandma. 

After her death ... and I dare say, shockingly soon after her death, the legalities kicked into high gear.  By the time I had bathed Grandma, dressed her and stood aside with other loved ones as she was taken out under a beautiful quilt to a cream-colored hearse, the proverbial "poop hit the fan." 

While my daughter and I had fully intended to continue our stay at my grandmother's home to "unkeep" her well-kept and well-loved apt/condo of the last 20+ years, the property managers closed her "home" to all parties, until legalities could be settled.  It was a bit like "grief on hold, just go home," which was the last thing we felt prepared to do. 

This threatened in a big way to turn the continued process of losing a loved one into a disjointed affair, but Ali and I and my other immediate family somehow managed to keep ourselves at a great distance from the "fighting" in order to remain firmly bonded to our grandmother and our heart-felt promises to her. 

The weekend was a long one for me.  We did return home, but no matter what we did, "business as usual at home," I felt as if I had left something behind somewhere.  Things felt "on-hold" and "undone" from an emotional standpoint.  I felt like I had driven home from the store and left my small child in the cart. 

Services and burial took place yesterday, and by this afternoon Ali and I were finally given our keys back in order to return to the process we had left behind closed doors.  While we had nothing, whatsoever, to do with the legal battles, the property had been sealed across the board, and so even those chosen by Grandma's heart to remain in her home, after her passing, were asked to leave.  This included us.

While various legalities and battles are still quite heated in the background, it failed in all respects to disconnect us from our grandmother, and we are happy to be back for the time that is left in taking apart the remaining material aspects of her life.  This "busy-work" is something left to do, one last thing we could promise her, that her home would be put to rest by family and not strangers. 

As well, we have renewed and made many new friends in this complex and our last celebration of her life here is to have an evening with the many fine residents in her apt/condo retirement complex.

I've missed the Den, for the past many days, and I really hope to catch up soon on all the new postings.  Take care all.  -A