A Proper Burial For Grandma Olivia

Her name was Olivia Webb, my grandmother. She had just celebrated her 89th birthday on September 16th with a few family members and a glass of wine. I was sure she’d make it to see 90. I’ve been taking care of my grandmother as she battled with dementia ever since I graduated from high school (2013). My mother started getting calls from my grandmother’s neighbor back in California about how she was forgetting to close her front door at night, along with other worrying behaviors, so we eventually moved her down here to Georgia with us. My mom ended up getting her an apartment 5 minutes away from us to keep a close eye on her, but soon found out that even that wasn’t enough. Now my grandmother is walking out of the house completely, leaving us to find her down the street somewhere by herself, with her door being left wide open. My grandmother would say that she was “walking back home to California”. Watching her go through each stage of the disease was the most difficult thing we’d ever had to do. From not remembering our names, to not even remembering how to eat. Putting a lot of things on hold, I made it my full time responsibility to take care of her for the remaining years of her life. Doing so, it became extremely difficult to stay in a steady financial position which put all financial burdens onto my mother. Eventually I’d begin to hear a really bad graveling noise coming from my grandmother’s throat as she would breath through to clear it. I would feed her daily meals but she would stop swallowing after awhile and the food would spill out of her mouth. The next day, her breathing was heavier than ever, so I called the nurse over for assistance but she wasn’t near the area. She gave me a number to call for assistance but they didn’t pick up either. So I looked up some things that I could do and it told me to lean her forward to allow her airways to open up more. I got her up and leaned over the bed so she could breathe better and everything I had fed her from the night before begin to pour out of her mouth and nose. Turns out her epiglottis was swollen in her throat which kept food from entering her stomach. Instead, the food was going through her windpipe into her lungs. She died before I could even get her into her wheelchair, two days before Christmas. Due to our financial situation, my mother and I weren’t able to prepare the funds needed for a proper burial of her untimely death. If any to spare, we would be very grateful to ANY donations given. The funeral will be held on January the 5th, 2019. Thank you to all and God bless.