I've been wanting to post but unable to think of the words to say. The last few weeks have been hard for me. The weekend before Halloween I was out visiting family and stopped by the senior living center my grandmother was staying at. She's 94, has mild dementia, and has always been plagued with heart issues and anxiety that exacerbate her heart troubles. She was having a good day, awake and alert though some of the things she was saying weren't quite right (she thought it was midnight though it was 11:30am and the sun was streaming in, and she was insistent that I had lost a great sum of weight, things like that). It was a good visit and I was glad I saw her.
I'm more glad now. About two weeks after that visit she had a heart attack. It was mild, but it reduced her heart to only 2/3s function and meant that her brain was no longer getting enough blood. The doctors waffled for a while before deciding that we should stop doing tests, make her comfortable, call in hospice and prepare for the worst.
I saw her Thanskgiving day and the day after, held her hand and spoke to her, told her she was loved and sang 'You Are My Sunshine' to her since she used to sing it to me. My grandmother and I have always had a strong bond. I hadn't come quickly enough to be there when she could still speak (I live 4 hours away and getting off work was hard.) so she couldn't respond, but she stared at me and I know she knew I was there since she tried to talk even if nothing came out.
She passed away on the 28th. I found out through a text while I was driving home from work. The funeral was probably the toughest day of my life and then watching family sort out her furniture and belongings so rapidly. My father wanted to donate most of the pieces of furniture that I had loved and knew since childhood. Finally he offered me $500 bucks and helped me find a mover to get them to my home.
So now I sit surrounded in what furniture, pictures, and belongings I could salvage. I have mementos that mean the world to me and they feel alien in my apartment. They belong with her, in her home, with her alive to take care of them.
I guess what this all boils down to is that my heart is broken. I want my grandmother back.
I'm more glad now. About two weeks after that visit she had a heart attack. It was mild, but it reduced her heart to only 2/3s function and meant that her brain was no longer getting enough blood. The doctors waffled for a while before deciding that we should stop doing tests, make her comfortable, call in hospice and prepare for the worst.
I saw her Thanskgiving day and the day after, held her hand and spoke to her, told her she was loved and sang 'You Are My Sunshine' to her since she used to sing it to me. My grandmother and I have always had a strong bond. I hadn't come quickly enough to be there when she could still speak (I live 4 hours away and getting off work was hard.) so she couldn't respond, but she stared at me and I know she knew I was there since she tried to talk even if nothing came out.
She passed away on the 28th. I found out through a text while I was driving home from work. The funeral was probably the toughest day of my life and then watching family sort out her furniture and belongings so rapidly. My father wanted to donate most of the pieces of furniture that I had loved and knew since childhood. Finally he offered me $500 bucks and helped me find a mover to get them to my home.
So now I sit surrounded in what furniture, pictures, and belongings I could salvage. I have mementos that mean the world to me and they feel alien in my apartment. They belong with her, in her home, with her alive to take care of them.
I guess what this all boils down to is that my heart is broken. I want my grandmother back.
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