There is great peace surrounding me right now. I’m taking my turn at grandma’s bedside. The oxygen machine’s aerator is bubbling like a fish tank. Tranquil hymns played on the piano resound from the small boom box in the corner of the room. A large window just beyond grandma’s bed separates me from a bird feeder that draws finches, swallows and blue jays into view. Outside this room there’s the commotion of daily life at a nursing home. In this one-bed room, there’s only love and compassion. Quiet moments remembering all the time with my grandma. All that she taught me. How hard she worked to raise the family that now surrounds her in her final days.

These past few days have been precious. We’ve all had a chance to say goodbye. To compare our recollections of our youth around the farm. To say thank you. To come to peace with her passing.

And with each passing day, grandma’s breathing gets more shallow, more irregular, more peaceful. Soon, she will be healed of the dementia that has claimed her mind for the past several years and the physical pain that is now masked by morphine. Thanks to her faith in Jesus, she will soon know eternal peace, the peace that surpasses all human understanding.

Psalm 39:4-5 (NIV): “Show me, O LORD, my life’s end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting is my life.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man’s life is but a breath.

Hebrews 13:14 (NLT): For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.
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Grandma passed away peacefully at 4:25 p.m. on November 15. Her breathing got slower and slower as life faded from her body. She died as simply and quietly as she had lived. She leaves a legacy of love and faith that our family will carry with us throughout our lives.