A Grand Exit

I called my 86 year old grandmother one morning and was surprised to hear how jovial she sounded. Her poor health had given the family a scare. The hospital admitted her for three days and released her with a prescription for a bladder infection.

Speaking with her on that Saturday morning felt like old times. My grandmother was as soft-spoken as a timid child but as willfully strong as any man I'd ever encountered. We discussed her health at length and I asked her if she felt she was ready to make the journey "home."

"No. Lord, no!" she cried.

For some reason, her response surprised me. I just assumed that a devout Christian who had experienced so much personal suffering would be ready to throw in the towel. Clearly, I was mistaken.

"My goal," she explained, "has always been to live until I'm a hundred years old."

I froze in midstir of my soon-to-be scrambled egg.

"A hundred?" I exclaimed.

"Uh huh" she paused, surprised that I was surprised.

"Oh, Grandma," I said shaking my head. "I don't know if I'd want to live that long. I mean, you experience so many bad things in life. No, I think I'd rather go around 70.band and countless other setbacks and heartaches. Yet, the thought of throwing in the towel and joining the angels in heaven was foreign to her. The obstacles she faced had not defeated her nor was she afraid to forge through more storms.

I remember one morning years ago when I was in the military, my squad had a two-mile run ahead of us and I was falling behind. The drill sergeant ran alongside me and yelled, "C'mon, Airman! You give up too easy. That's the problem with you young folks today. You give up too easy!" I think my grandmother would have agreed. The more bumps and bruises we endure on our personal growth journey, the stronger we will be when all is said and done. The key is to never throw in the towel.

My grandmother died later that year from a bladder infection. She held on until the last of her immediate family members arrived to her bedside, many of whom, myself included, traveled from states afar. She allowed herself to slip away when the last of our clan arrived. It was a reluctant exit from a life well lived.