As the engagement coordinator for The Aultman Foundation (TAF), Abby Scassa helps with outreach to existing and new donors about opportunities within Aultman Health System. She recently found herself on the receiving end of donor-supported services and shared this piece with the Aultman blog about her family’s experiences.

We were blessed with 91 wonderful years with my Grandma Lou – but no matter how long you have with someone you love, it never feels like enough.

My grandmother was the embodiment of strength, independence and resilience. She lived through the Great Depression and World War II. She witnessed the birth of television, the internet and smartphones. She endured 9/11 and the COVID-19 pandemic and faced numerous health challenges – two hip replacements, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, AFib with a pacemaker – yet nothing ever seemed to slow her down.

Even in her 90s, she was living independently with her two beloved cats, cooking for herself and embracing life with quiet determination.

A few years ago, Grandma Lou was diagnosed with slow-progressing breast cancer. True to form, she met this new challenge with courage and grace. Each time we feared the worst, she bounced back. Until she didn’t.

In March 2025, the cancer spread to her lungs, and breathing became more difficult. After a short hospital stay, Grandma Lou returned home on oxygen, where our family, along with the incredible team at Aultman Hospice, cared for her. Her health declined rapidly, and soon we found ourselves seeking more support. This led us to the Aultman Women’s Board Compassionate Care Center.

In moments like these, it can be hard to find light in the darkness. But the Compassionate Care Center was that light. Their team wrapped us in warmth and guidance, making one of the hardest experiences of our lives feel a little less overwhelming. Most of all, they ensured my grandmother felt safe, comforted and respected as she made her final journey.

On our first night there, one of the nurse assistants sat beside Grandma Lou as she struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t rush or flinch; she just sat with her, talking gently, holding space for her fear, helping her through.

When my mother and I stepped out to thank her, she simply said, “I’ll treat her as if she were my own mother.” In that moment, a weight was lifted from our hearts – we knew that Grandma Lou was exactly where she needed to be.

Grandma Lou was an avid bird and deer watcher, able to name every feathered visitor. I will always treasure the quiet hours we spent in her homey room with its wide glass doors, watching the birds one last time, hand in hand.

The Compassionate Care Center didn’t just care for my grandmother – they cared for all of us. From the peaceful atmosphere to the comforting meals provided by volunteers, they created a space where love and grief could coexist. A space where we could just be with her – without distractions, without fear.

I wish every family could experience what we did. Though saying goodbye will never be easy, the Compassionate Care Center helped create beauty in the midst of heartbreak. They gave us the gift of presence, peace and time.

Despite our 53-year age difference, Grandma Lou was my best friend. I miss her deeply, but I take comfort in knowing that she passed in the most peaceful, dignified way possible. For that, I will be forever grateful.