3 strokes too many

Even if you aren't a prayer type person, I need you to get down on your knees. Something bad happened.

My grandma is very dear to me. She is an amazing lady, a lady who always gave me honey graham crackers and hugs ever since I was born. I just love her so much. We used to sit on her front porch and swing our lives away talking about her garden that she made my parents keep up for her. Her husband died a decade ago, even though with her recent Alzheimers, she believes he still lives. 

At this moment in time, she is not the grandma I once knew. She hides things under her pillow at the nursing home so when an unknown person comes in she can kill them. She has tried to kill her roommates with her purse because she honestly believes they are sleeping with her dead husband. Her poor little mind just can't keep up with her body.

Three strokes too many over the past three days. I want my grandma back. 

After the third stroke, my grandma didn't respond too much at all. They say hearing is the last thing to leave so I decided a hospital visit would be good. I want her to know how much I love her before she passes away (which will, according to the doctors, be this week).

Nana explained to her "Mom, this is h a l e y. This is Ty's daughter. She is related to you." and the second my Nana had the words out of her mouth, my grandma opened her eyes and started moaning words to me. She reached for my hand and I grabbed it. She was trying to tell me she loved me, despite her inability to speak. I was the first person she responded to for four to five days. 

Love is a powerful thing. Prayer is a powerful thing. 

I cried for hours. My grandma gave me a response that brightened my day, but will haunt the days to come. Once she leaves me for her home up high, I'll be thinking of her and what she did that day. There will be plenty more tears. I'm going to miss her.

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That was my draft I was saving to post today. Well, my plans weren't Gods plan.
The hospital became my home last night while tears became more and more abundant. The nurses called me the "miracle girl" because of how my grandma responded to me the day before. I wish yesterday had gone as good as Tuesday, but three doses of morphine tends to make a person out of it. As I got in the room, her body kept shutting down. My eyes were glued to my grandma wincing in pain from her attempted breathing even though her lungs were filled with fluid, slowly suffocating her.
My world ended last night. At least the world I had shared with her. The past 17 years I spent getting closer to a lady who always handed me honey graham crackers on the front porch swing. A strong willed woman became weak, and let death take over her whole body.

The nurse said she was waiting to pass away until she saw me again.
I feel at peace, because she was waiting for me. She knew I was in the room I just know it.

My heart is a little bit heavy right now.