Grieving Halloween

With the final hours of Halloween coming to an end, I sit in the Mom Loft thinking about what Halloween means to me. Sure, I love spooky stuff, skulls and witchy shit (cue Stevie Nicks), but Halloween is so much more to me. Some say Halloween is when the veil between our world and the next is at its thinnest, allowing us to connect with loved ones who have passed. Día de los Muertos is another holiday this time of year that revolves around connecting with our dearly departed. The way they build ofrendas for their deceased family is so beautiful to me. I do something similar in my home, displaying pictures of my ancestors on the wall. It makes me feel connected to the bigger picture. 

This year, Halloween just hit differently. It was one of my Grandma B.’s favorite holidays. She would always dress up at work, with her quirky earrings and funny costumes. I ended up inheriting most of the earrings, and wore them proudly the last few weeks. 

I miss my Grandma B. so very much, it hurts some days. My regret in not spending more time with her in the last few years is immense. Yes, there were a lot of extenuating circumstances. She lives across the state. I had a baby and worked full time. Then the GD PANINI hit (I heard the pandemic called a panini once and it stuck), and then I stayed away out of love, trying to protect her and my grandpa. When we were finally vaccinated, I could visit her for the first time in 2 YEARS. That trip meant so much to me that I wrote a blog post about it. I tried to take every moment in. It’s like I knew I was running out of time. 

After that trip, things went downhill for Grandma fast. She had a stroke that landed her in a nursing home. My grandfather and the rest of the family tried so hard to find a way for her to come home, the home she loved so much. Filled with so many happy memories. But it kept feeling like a series of unfortunate events. First the stroke, then COVID, then she got a UTI that went unaddressed by the nursing home for far too long, and the infection spread. It was too late. 

I went with my dad one last time to say goodbye while she was still in the hospital. We knew the end was approaching. She couldn’t swallow on her own anymore. There were talks of a feeding tube, but thankfully after talking with my dad and I, my grandpa was able to make peace with that not being an option. I must admit, as a strong death care advocate and registered dietitian, I really struggled when the potential for a tube feed was tossed around. 

While gut wrenching, I am glad I went to visit my grandma. I was able to hold her hand and kiss her goodbye. I told her I loved her, and all I wanted was for her to be comfortable. All while watching my grandpa holding her hand tight. Never leaving her side. Their love was a quiet love, but it truly shone in my eyes at the end. My Grandpa did everything he could for her, trying desperately to get her to come home one last time. Instead I saw him breakdown over her casket, saying he doesn’t know what he will do without her. My heart broke. 

I thought I would be prepared after my Gramma P. passed. Their experiences were similar, and yet so different. It’s been hard for me to not compare, tying back to the guilt I feel. I got to spend much more time with my Gramma P. at the end. Distance made that hard with Grandma B., but I did what I could. I wrote her obituary while on my way to the Outer Banks for a family vacation. She passed while we were there. It made for a unique experience processing grief when trying to enjoy a much needed vacation, but we made it work. 

I write all of this to say, never judge another person’s grief. It’s taken me two and a half months to sit down and write this, because I clearly needed time to process it all. Everyone’s timeline is different. Every grandparent is different. There is no road map. Grief is a tricky thing. One minute you feel at peace, knowing your loved one is no longer suffering. The next moment,  the many regrets and “should haves” come flooding into the psyche. I should have called more. Should have visited. Told her I loved her more. Thanked her for everything she did. My grandma loved her family with all her heart, and I hope she knows how much we love her too. Now and forever.