It's almost morbid...I sit here writing while I can see my aunt giving my grandmother water on a sponge. But in reality, I don't know what else to do but write.
I'm here with my mother and my aunt. A few hours earlier, I got an idea to say something other than the rosary. I felt that as this time draws close, something more needed to be said besides 10 Ave Maria's and a Noster Pater.
At midnight I lead the Litany for the Dying with my mother kneeling at my grandmother's bedside. I felt it important not just for the petitions to God, but as a way for my family to accept some sense of closure by commencing her soul to the Lord.
I was nervous and I felt I was the wrong person to be doing any kind of prayer ministry. I asked for God's grace to help me.
There's more to tell, but every minute is critical here. In a way, I chastise myself for hoping God takes her soon. I want her to not suffer. I want her to stop being in pain. I want her to be the strong woman I remember.
Despite those feelings, I would eagerly perform the Litany again. For my grandmother or anyone else's.