I was there when my grandmother (my mom’s mom) was put in hospice, when she had a stroke, and when she was hospitalized for pneumonia. I held her hand, but I was not there when she passed away. My heart aches.

A Brave Woman

Days before, I visited my grandmother at St. Luke’s Hospital in New Bedford, Massachusetts. She had been admitted for aspiration pneumonia. Her esophageal cancer had progressed to the point that eating, even pureed food, had become difficult. So difficult that the food went down the wrong pipe, triggering an infection in her lungs that would cause her to become short of breath.

When I saw her though, she was not wearing oxygen. She seemed peaceful, gasping slightly when she tried to speak a few sentences in a row. Her breath would come back after a short rest. Reaching for my hand, she wanted to know all about “you”. So I held her hand tight and told her all about “us”. 

A Better Woman

I shared stories I remembered from my childhood, about her taking me to Disney World, about our going out for pancakes, about her cheering me on at the junior high talent show.

And her cookies. She beamed that I loved her cookies, but who didn’t? Phenomenal. Honestly, it drives me nutty that she could not remember the secret recipes. It is part of her legacy!

Her own memories peppered the storytelling too. She told me about her “mischievous” children, my mom included, and without prompting, she brought whole new insight into what my father (her son-in-law) might have been like in his youth.

Most people will remember her as a strong woman, someone who fought for what she wanted. She had high expectations, and she expected everyone to give 100%. But she also had a softer side. As a nurse, she took care of people at their weakest. She left her life on the east coast to help her sister care for her dying husband in California. She was there when it mattered most.

Leaving Behind a Legacy

Her one regret is that she thought she did not show her children enough love. She outright said so, said that she was too hard on them at times, that she could have been there for them more. As a mother, my heart broke to hear her say it. It is hard to imagine you can ever really be there for anyone quite enough.

All the same, people were there for her in her final days.

She was surrounded by colorful flowers, flowers that turned the darkness bright. Each bloom represented someone who loved her, each petal a memory, each stem a legacy. She had a caring hospice team to keep her comfortable and family by her side — her son and niece — to hold her hand in the final hours of her life here on Earth.

I may not have been with her this morning, but I got to say goodbye one last time when I held her hand earlier this week. Alzira Mattos was a beautiful strong woman, inside and out. I thanked her for making me a strong woman too.