The Red Tent

My maternal grandmother is dying.  She has a myriad of problems, and recently was given a month to live.  Right now my mom is staying the week with her up in Pocatello, so that she can help her put up all of her Christmas decorations.  My grandma loves Christmas, and I like it that my mom gets to help her set up for her last one. 

Last year I read a book called The Red Tent, written by Anita Diamant.  It is set in Old Testament Jacob's time, and is largely about the relationships of the women in his family.  The red tent was the women's tent, and therein did each girl learn about her role as a woman and the gifts of her mothers and sisters.  It's a good story, except for a few historical liberties the author took that I don't agree with.   Overall, it beautifully shows how women are bound together through family, experience, and understanding.

The women in my family are now in our own Red Tent.  With our matriarch leaving us, each is becoming very aware of how we are connected to her and therefore to each other.  Everyone that comes to visit Grandma somehow speaks to how strong she is.  With each telling all of her daughters nod, acknowledging that the visitor is correct and we know this because we too have pieces of her strength and pride that we carry.  Each of us has naturally picked up a role of caregiver, making sure Grandma is as comfortable as possible.  My aunt and cousins, especially, have been her constant companions physically and emotionally.  When we are all together it is like bees in a hive, buzzing around the queen because we love her.  I especially like to be near her, sitting next to her in the living room, or curled up with her in bed for a nap.  It is pleasurable to be so close to this woman from whose blood and spirit I've come.  

My grandma is dying now because she has chosen to.  She has been given options to prolong her life, but has determined she is content to be finished.  This has been a difficult concept for all of us to digest.  But despite our own wishes, we support her because we know we'd all expect the same liberty to choose our path.

Death is an uncomfortable thought, and I push the concept to the back of my mind until I have to deal with it directly.  Watching my grandmother face it with determination and sweetness makes me proud of her.  My mother, aunts, and cousins all feel that though we are losing a beloved, we are doing it in a way that helps us to understand ourselves.  And it is a definite blessing to be able to share these last days with her, hopefully showing such tenderness as is merited to a woman at the end of a long life.  We care for her instinctively not only because she is Grandma, but also because she is a model of each of us, taking our last steps in life.  One and the same.