When I found out my grandmother, Debbie, was terminally ill, I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. The doctor was explaining treatment options, but before he could finish, Gran spoke up.
“I’ve lived a wonderful life,” she said, smiling gently. “I’d rather spend my last days enjoying it than fighting for it.”I sat there, gripping the edge of my chair, my throat tightening. It wasn’t that I didn’t respect her choice—I did—but how do you prepare to lose someone who has been your constant, your safe place, your guiding light?
That night, as I lay awake, memories of her filled my mind. The way she used to sing while cooking, her fingers soft as she braided my sister’s hair, the way her laughter could chase away the darkest of days. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But I could make sure that when the time came, she would leave this world knowing just how deeply she was loved.
That’s when I started planning the perfect day for her.
When I told her we were going out, she lit up like a child on Christmas morning. She took her time getting ready, carefully selecting a deep green dress—the same shade as the one she had worn on her first date with Grandpa. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened a pearl necklace around her neck.
“Where are we going, Cody?” she asked as I helped her into the car.
“You’ll see,” I said, grinning
Our first stop was the botanical garden. The moment we stepped inside, she gasped. Orchids—her absolute favorite flowers—were everywhere, their delicate petals swaying in the gentle breeze.
She turned to me, eyes wide. “Oh, Cody!”
Before she could say another word, the soft sound of a saxophone filled the air. The musician stood a few steps away, playing a song I knew by heart—“What a Wonderful World.” It was the same song that had played at her wedding.
I held out my hand. “May I have this dance, Gran?
She laughed, a little shaky but full of warmth. “You’re going to make me cry, sweetheart.”
But she took my hand anyway.
As we swayed to the music, she told me about her first dance with Grandpa—the way he had held her close, whispered how beautiful she was. For a moment, it was like she was there again, a young woman in love, reliving the magic of that night.
And yet, the botanical garden wasn’t the real surprise.
“Where to next?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye as we returned to the car.
“You’ll see,” I said again.
This time, I drove to the restaurant where she and Grandpa had shared their last date. It had been years since she had been back, but the moment we walked through the doors, recognition dawned on her face.
“Oh my…” she whispered, taking in the familiar decor, the small candlelit tables, the old piano in the corner.
The staff, who had been more than happy to help with my plan, led us to the exact table where she had last sat with Grandpa. As she ran her fingers over the tablecloth, a soft smile played on her lips.
“I remember this place,” she said, eyes glistening. “He ordered the steak, and I told him I’d just have a salad, but then I kept stealing bites from his plate.”
I chuckled. “Classic.”