Since crying over the phone with my friend, things have not gotten easier as I watch my grandma's health deteriorate. She has stage 3 Multiple Meyloma which a younger person in excellent health who underwent invasive treatment would live around 5 years. My grandma might have a year. She doesn't believe she'll make it to Mother's Day (tomorrow); I think we have weeks and praying she makes it to her 65th wedding anniversary in the end of June.
Thursday morning we got the message to get to the hospital ASAP. We typically gather once or twice a year at Christmas and in the summer. My grandparents are always prepared for this and have outfitted their home to accommodate us. Their basement as a row of twin beds so all the cousins share a room. Last night as we were falling asleep my oldest male cousin started praying quietly out loud to himself. I don't come from a family of great faith and prayer is something done before big, festive meals. So there was something very special about hearing this young man pray. He prayed briefly and so desperately to himself. To hear him pray was so beautiful especially since he's autistic and relates to people differently. I just laid there and listened to his simple cry to God.
"God, be with me.
God, be with my grandma.
Help my grandma.
Help me."
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