sweet wishes

My Nana went into the hospital on Monday March 22nd.

Her last full day of consciousness was Saturday April 3rd.

They put her on a ventilator and under sedation on Easter morning, the 4th.

Saturday night was the last night I talked to her.

On April 5th (my birthday), just one day after being sedated, I received a card in the mail. The handwriting was my Papa's. The return address was one I came to know better than any of my home addresses,
6470 Hwy N
My Nana and Papa.

I was afraid to open the card.

When my mom called me later that day I mentioned it to her. She told me that my Nana was very adamant about sending me a birthday card. They sent it out just a days before she went under sedation.

Still, I was afraid to open it.

I had two fears in opening it.

One, I was afraid that this would be my last conversation with my Nana, and I was afraid to have that conversation before she was even gone. Part of me wanted to cling to the unsealed envelope in case something did happen, if she did pass away, so I had something left of her, something that was especially for me.

Two, I was afraid she didn't write in it. She was so weak at the hospital. Even talking to visitors made her struggle. I was afraid that she had asked my Papa to write for her. I was afraid I wouldn't have this last conversation with her.

I kept the envelope in my grips for weeks.

Occasionally, I would lift the edge a bit, peek inside. I could see some purple and pinks. I could see some gold cursive writing, but I couldn't' see Nana's handwriting.

The card stared me down every time I entered my bedroom. The card accompanied me in my duffel bag on every ICU trip in those two weeks. Even this last week after she had already passed away, I carried it with me unopened.

Today I opened the card.

It was beautiful, inspiring, and loving.
It was hand-picked by my Nana before she went into the hospital,
and there was a note in her handwriting written especially for me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Lord.
Thank you Nana.