It started as a normal day.  I had a normal breakfast, a normal car ride to school, and normal first few periods to my school day.  There I was in Mr. Wehri’s social studies class, learning all about our history as a nation and world.  In the middle of the lesson, Mrs. Miller, a family friend and teacher at my school, called me out into the hall.  I was surprised to see my sister with her also.  I knew something must have been wrong that both my sister and I had been called out of class for the same reason.  Miller gave us the bad news: “Your grandmother had a stroke.”  I was shocked.  My grandmother was the last person I would have ever thought this to happen to.  She was active, healthy and just one of the most fun people to be around.  Just a day or two previously, I had talked to her and now I feared I wouldn’t talk with her again.  When I returned to class, I could tell from all the looks sent my way from my classmates that they wanted to know what had been said to me, but I felt sick and just wanted to go home. 

After school mom took my sister and me up to the Michigan University Hospital, where my grandmother was getting cared for.  It was a long, quiet car ride to the hospital.  Upon arriving we waited on the plush seats in the waiting room, which have comforted hundreds of family members waiting on news of their loved ones.  Just walking through the halls of a hospital has a certain almost desolate feeling to them.  The air seemed thick with the smell of medication and disinfectants.  As we walked by other rooms full of patients, one room on the happy side was celebrating a birthday or something of the sort.  I prayed hard that my family would soon be with grandma awake, and she’d have a huge smile on her cheery face like any other normal day.  I stepped into the room and hesitated seeing her in her current state.  It was scary just to see her lying there on that hospital bed with tubes coming out of her mouth, IV lines in her arm, and the beep of a heart monitor.  I didn’t know what to do. I asked the nurse, “Do I talk to her? Can she hear me? Is it ok to touch her?”  More than anything I think I was scared and unsure what to do. I saw many family members coming to visit her, but it seemed nothing except a blur of faces and events taking place.  The doctors couldn’t do anything to save her fully from the effects of the stroke.  “We could perform open brain surgery and maybe save her life,” the doctor stated. “She would be alive but not there mentally.”   Letting her rest in peace was the best option decided.

The very hardest part of it all was the funeral.  Before visitation took, place we had time alone to see her before it all began.  It was nice to see family from far away; however, it was hardly enjoyable on this occasion.  At the closing of the visitation, the priest said some words and prayers and opened the floor to anyone who had something to say about her.  Several people talked of memories about her and all she had done for them.  Then someone who I would not have thought to say anything had something to say.  My younger cousin said how he always loved her pies at holidays and next what he said touched everyone’s heart in that room.   “I know I will never forget Sandy.  If I ever did, I would be ashamed of myself,” he said through tears.  That was just so brave that he stood up there and to say that in front of everyone. 

Life has not been the same since she passed.  It was almost like having to find a new way of living, a way without her.  I never really realized all the places she volunteered and did for my family until she didn’t do them anymore.  She is greatly missed by everyone.  I often wonder how buildings can stand without a sound foundation.  She was the foundation of our family.  It takes a while to be fixed, but it will never fully heal.