In early 2003, my Grandma had what seemed like a simple gallbladder removal surgery. But at age 80, I suppose any surgery has its risks. Unfortunately Grandma suffered a stroke soon after her surgery which resulted in significant weakness on one side of her body and speech difficulties. She also lost her ability to safely swallow liquid and solid food. Given her poor prognosis, the family decided to place her under the care of hospice for end of life treatment. Grandma was moved to a beautiful, peaceful room in a hospice house where she spent the last nearly 10 days of her life. Within a few days I found myself on an airplane heading from Maryland to South Dakota to say my goodbyes to my beloved Grandma. My parents, brother, aunts, uncles, and cousins also arrived at the hospice house. We had been a close “extended” family when I was growing up. Grandma was the “glue” that kept all of us together. While visiting Grandma in hospice, I remember she said multiple times, “I want to go home.” It was shortly thereafter that her Pastor visited and read her the 23rd Psalm. This was her favorite Psalm. Within a day or two, Grandma’s attempts at talking decreased significantly.

And then it happened…I remember this experience like it was yesterday. In fact, the tears are rolling down my cheeks as I write this. My entire family…cousins, parents, aunts and uncles, and brother were all crowded in Grandma’s room while she lay resting. All of a sudden, Grandma called my name, Stephie, (she has been the only person that has ever called me Stephie), and held out her hand. I went over to her, took her hand, and began to cry and told her I loved her. When I released her hand, she called my brother’s name, and one by one, she called each of us over to her. She knew we were all there. She was saying goodbye. I remember having my arms around my cousin and brother and standing there in this small room with tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt the emotion of my family members who were also saying goodbyes, including my grandfather who was saying goodbye to his bride of nearly 59 years. It was at that moment, I felt this energy…it was like a power I cannot describe like any other. It was a rush of energy that took my breath away. It was like someone else was in the room that I could not see, nor hear. But, it was a presence I could feel. The next day Grandma was not responsive. The hospice nurse described her as “floating in the clouds with one hand reaching out to heaven.” And within another couple of days, Grandma had passed away. I know to this day that God was there in that room with all of us, as Grandma said her goodbyes. The memory is still so powerful even though it happened nearly 13 years ago.

After I returned to Maryland, I decided to become a hospice volunteer. I thought this would be an opportunity for me to grieve over my loss. I also felt comforted by the hospice staff where my Grandma spent her final days, and felt drawn to comfort others as a hospice volunteer. My first patient I was assigned to as a hospice volunteer was named Betty. Betty was my grandmother’s name. I knew right then that God led me to be a hospice volunteer. It was not happenstance. It was where I needed to be. Grandma Betty was there with God watching over me and comforting me, and even though I missed her terribly, I knew right then that I was going to be alright.

Stephanie Fletcher