Live with No Regrets

When the phone rings late at night, it’s usually not good news. My husband Trevor and I were shopping for Christmas on December 3^rd and we got the call.  

My granny Grace was in the hospital again, my mom informed us. (We didn’t worry too much at first, because she, like many older folks, gets dehydrated from time to time and is shipped off to the hospital every few months.) This time was different, though. My mom said it wasn’t looking good, and by the time we arrived at the hospital, my dear, precious granny had been given only 24 hours to live. She had a terrible infection and the doctor told us matter-of-factly that it was only their drugs keeping her alive. 

Backing up, my granny Grace Nurse is 94 years old. She has always been a part of my life, helping to raise me when I was small. We have an especially close relationship. I love talking to Granny about times gone by. She is a tiny, sparkly-eyed, white-haired woman of love and faith. She is feisty and bossy and our family just laughs and takes orders from she-who-must-be-obeyed. 

Growing up, I remember her playing baseball with me and my brother, taking us to the park, picking raspberries, and hand-washing dishes in her kitchen. Even now in her sunset years, she never wants to miss a family event and practically leaps out of her chair when we stop by her care facility to pick her up.  

On December 3^rd, I leaned over her with tears in my eyes and told her how much I loved her. I kissed her soft cheeks and held her hand. Everyone in the room thought we were witnessing her journey to the pearly gates. I don’t think she knew exactly what was going on because she asked several times when she would get to go home. The rest of us had heavy hearts as the tidal wave of grief was almost suffocating. We feared that she would be going “home” sooner than she thought. 

My mom and I stayed in her hospital room with her that night on pink plastic chairs. I couldn’t bear the thought of her slipping away all alone. Granny was hooked up to machines that beeped and whirred and blinked all night. She slept, but we couldn’t.  

My aunt frantically arrived the next day, for which we were grateful. Twenty-five hours into the doctor’s prediction, Granny was still alive. Within two days, things began to look mildly hopeful. The doctors were shocked, and said they didn’t understand why she was still here. The nurses and our family began calling her “Amazing Grace.” 

She was chatting us up like crazy, so I got out my tape recorder, cuddled up to her, and captured some of her stories. I’ve never heard Granny as funny as she was during these weeks of recovery. She was clever and witty and joking with all of us.  

I took several days off work, and even the days I had to work, I made a few hours here and there to zip over to the hospital each day and sit by her side, even if just to be there when she woke from a nap. Like a nine year old girl, I wrote cheery messages with colorful pens on the white board in her room. There was no where else I would rather be. No appointment or speaking engagement or deadline could have kept me from her side. 

It occurred to me as I dared to think about her recovering, that we still wouldn’t have much time left with her. At her age, Granny’s days are marked. With great joy and gratitude, we shared Christmas with Granny. She even came to our annual cookie party just two weeks after she had been hospitalized and cut out sugar cookies. She has made a miraculous recovery, but we know that each day is a gift. 

Did you know the days are marked for each and every one of us? I don’t know about you, but I want to use them well. So often, we spend our time with work and family and friends. We are there physically, but we’re too exhausted by life’s demands to be truly present. In those weeks with Granny, I was fully engaged, fully present. I haven’t had as satisfying a day as those spent rubbing her back, warming her feet, or combing her hair. I felt so content and aware of this delicate treasure called life. 

It wasn’t Granny’s time to go home this December, but it will be someday soon. This experience has reinforced by desire to live with purpose and vigor each day. I don’t want to live with regrets. I want to invest my time into the people I love and into my dreams with fullness of heart. In 2006, I wish the same for you. May you live this year, and those beyond, with absolutely no regrets. I invite you to order your life to make room for the people and dreams that truly matter. 

With a thankful heart,
Vicki Norris

Restoring Order ®
Phone: 503-625-5774    1-888-625-5774
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