I’m sorry if you don’t care about this. I know it has nothing to do with you. I just have to get it out. I’m home alone right now, and I have no phone and no one to talk to, so I’m putting it here.
My grandma is dying. I don’t know how else to deal with this other than to write about it. It’s how I cope… But I don’t even know what to say…. So I’m just gonna write.
She fell down. She’s old and she fell down. She broke her shoulder and she hit her head, which caused bleeding on her brain. They’ve done two surgeries, but there’s still a lot of blood, and they’re not sure where it’s coming from. They won’t do another surgery because she won’t survive it. All they can do now is make her comfortable. They’re giving her 2-3 days. And my heart is breaking.
This woman… I hated her when I was a kid. She was bossy and mean, and scary. Once when I was maybe 4, she gave my twin and I full plates of food and told us we couldn’t have anything to drink until we were done. Once she told my twin and I that if we didn’t clean our room, the IRS would come and take us away from our mom. We didn’t like her at all. And when I was older, I was more lenient, but I still found her a little obnoxious. After school, she would park outside of my mom’s house and lay on her horn until my sister and I came out to talk to her. She might take us to get ice cream, if only we would sit and tell her what was going on in our lives. Pathetic. Not her, us. That we needed some sort of incentive to just talk to our lonely, widowed grandmother. By the time I was old enough to appreciate that she always wanted to spend time with me, she had moved to Kansas City to live with her daughter and developed dementia. I have to introduce myself to her every time we meet. When she sees my daughter, she asks if she is mine, every time. When her overweight chihuahua, Latte, died, they had to explain to her over and over, because every few hours she would ask, “Where is my dog”. To save her from the heartbreak every time, they started telling her that he was at a friend’s house instead.
She has to do the sign of the cross over me before I leave the house, she needs help to get off of the toilet, and she knows the most history about my family. She’s really the center of the family. She was a crossing guard for a long time, adored by the kids she helped. She’s a little crazy. And she’ a little demanding. And she’s a little silly. But she’s a constant. A good chunk of my childhood memories revolve around her, good or bad. And she’s going to be gone. Just gone. It’s not fair.
This will be the second grandmother I lose this year.
Thank you all for your support! It really does help. <3