Walking Zombie

There are several reasons why I am today, the walking dead. First: too many late nights. Second: an active mind that likes to play every scenario of earlier occurrences or ask questions about these events to torment me. Third: working late into the night stuffing bills into envelopes that will most likely be tossed into the trash. Fourth: shoveling the snow that continues to fall, even at this very moment. Fifth: the death of a beloved Prophet who had such an extraordinary impact on, not only myself, but also the world. I spoke about mourning the loss of a relationship in an earlier blog. Instead of my zombified state, I would like to focus on the memories that have flooded me since the dreaded announcement on Sunday.

Few of you know that President Hinckley reminded me of my own Grandpa. They both had a zest for life, a sense of humor that brought a smile to the saddest face. There was a strong resemblance in their features as well. As a child, I would ask my mom, "Why is Grandpa on TV?" "That's not Grandpa. That's Elder Gordon B. Hinckley." My favor was obtained. I was too young to grasp the depth of the words he spoke, but he spoke them as my Grandpa would. Granted, he spoke with much more eloquence than a farmer from Idaho, but in my mind they were "brothers". There was, regretfully, a drastic change in my Grandfather that occurred at the death of his wife.

My Grandma was one of my best friends. As active children, my siblings and I would constantly be doing things. Grandma (and Grandpa) came to each of these events: soccer games, plays, concerts, birthday parties, the list goes on. For those of you that know music, you may find this a shock. My mom taught me to sing harmony before I ever learned how to sing melody. As a first soprano...that's unheard of. She told me that her mom and dad did the same thing for her. My grandparents had been in a band (of sorts) in Idaho, my Grandma at the piano and my Grandpa on the saxophone. Later in life, they played for church dances together. As young children of 9, 7, and 3 (that's me), our Grandma would take us to sing at Nursing Homes, church meetings, and senior functions to keep those traditions alive. This developed an unbreakable bond (geasher, rye-guy...remember the rings?). My senior year, my sister was married. They, despite her frailty, played for the final time together. She would have been to my graduation ceremony, but we convinced her to stay home (she was 89 and the location was full of stairs). As a tribute to her, I must let you know that she was the ward organist for 70 years and she played for the congregation the week before she died. She passed away a month after my birthday, to the day.

It was heartbreaking. My friend wrote a blog once about loneliness and, I admit I've felt it many times during my life. But this was one of the hardest times I've ever had to face. I'm going to share with you a dear memory. We were at her house the week before she entered the hospital. She turned to me and said that she was afraid to die. I'll never know why she told me that, but I responded, "Don't worry, Grandma. I'll hold your hand." She went downhill very fast. It was torture watching her stats drop slowly. That week was, obviously, one I'll never forget. Even so, she kept her sense of humor to the end (either that or it was the morphine. Probably both.) My mom and sister had left the room and I was given a few blessed minutes with my closest friend. She was heavily sedated, but I knew it would be my last time alone with her. I said, "Grandma, I just want you to know that I love you so much." Her reply (I love this in more ways than one), "I love you too...two...shoe. I have TWO feet!" Morphine, you've got to love it!

After she was gone, my Grandpa went through a change, as did I. He became exceedingly grumpy and introverted. His "President Hinckley persona" was gone. He stopped enduring to the end and started waiting to die. It was harder watching him go through this alteration than losing my Grandma. She was in a better place. She was no longer in pain. He was experiencing the worst kind of loss, a wife of 64 years, his best friend. He entered a deep depression. I allowed the extreme loneliness to surround me. Have you ever had something happen in your life that pierced you deeply and no one was there for you? This was one of those times for me. Yes, my family was there for me, but each had someone to lean on. My mom had my dad, my sister had her husband, my brother had his girlfriend, and I had...no one (I had the Lord, but I wanted a physical person to share my grief). My Grandma was usually the one I leaned on and that wasn't a possibility anymore. My thinking, "My friends will comfort me. They know how hard this is and they will let me cry on their shoulders." Not one of my friends showed me any remorse. They acted as if nothing had happened. My pain was nothing to them. Therefore, I was nothing to them. All association was cut off. I climbed into myself, not unlike my Grandpa. Bitter is the word that is printed across this period of my life.

I have evolved in a way that I never thought possible. I've done an about face. I am grateful for the time of mourning, the time of loneliness. Looking back, I see how the Lord carried me through a dark time. It has taken me years to trust people (friends) again. Those who are closest to me should feel wonderful about themselves. I open up more with them than I ever thought I'd do again (and am continuing to open the cage I mentioned in a previous blog. It's a good feeling). I am so happy knowing that when I allow the Lord into my life, I'm never alone. My Grandma and Grandpa are together again, as are President and Sister Hinckley. The pain of watching each one exit this world is nothing compared to the joy of knowing they completed the ultimate mission. Life. I find it ironic that I referred to myself as the walking dead. I'm just plain tired. I am excited to continue with the life given me. Like those four amazing people, I will endure to the end! But if I start getting impatient, just give me a little morphine. That always does the trick.