My grandmother passed away last night. She had been in the hospital for five weeks. Those last few weeks I tried to visit as much as I could because it only seemed real to me if it was right in front of my face. And it had to be real. I needed it to be real, because I refused to let my grandmother pass away and not feel anything. I wasn't going to let covid take this away from me too. So I went every day after the food bank, and Peppy, the kids and I would visit on the weekend and some evenings. One afternoon when I was leaving she grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you," and I knew that was her telling me goodbye.
Those last few weeks it was inevitable that she was going to pass away. She was sleeping most of the day and she couldn't really eat anything. She knew she was dying because she asked my dad when he was going to bring pictures so she could pick them out for her slideshow. And one day when I was there she woke up and said, "When's the funeral?" When we left Gage said he understood where I got my dry humor from.
Her insurance didn't allow for any more days in the hospital, so they moved her across the street to 'rehab,' but everyone knew she wasn't going to rehabilitate. The bad part about this is that my grandaddy had been spending every single night at the hospital with her, but he wasn't allowed to do that in the rehab facility. She passed away her second night there and I hate that she was alone, but from everything my dad told me it seems like she passed away in her sleep. But I wish he could have been with her.
I called grandaddy at 6:30 this morning and he was at Hardees alone, crying in a booth and eating a biscuit. That about killed me. If I can't feel emotions for myself, at least I can still feel other people's pain again. I know in that cloud of shock you aren't really thinking clearly and I know he was just trying to do something normal, but the thought of him being all alone was heartbreaking.
It is hard to imagine that I will never see my grandmother on earth again, but at the same time, I am so happy for her. She is at peace now. She is whole. She is with her parents and her sister who died when she was 10, and all her friends and family who have passed on before. This morning I imagined her sister Helen greeting her and saying, "Peggy! I've been waiting for you!"
This life is filled with all sorts of disappointment and sorrow, but the thought of eternal happiness and love is so beautiful. This life is so fleeting, and death is a doorway to a place without time. A place with no tears or sadness. No death or loneliness. Getting to meet our creator in person. I am sorry for everyone she has left behind, but I am happy for her.
I was thinking about how in ancient times when someone died you put on your mourning clothes. They publically grieved and they all grieved together. Even a hundred years ago you had mourning clothes. Now a child dies and you're expected to go back to work in a week like nothing happened. It is very weird to think about. All these sorrowful things constantly going on around us. People's lives changing forever in an instant and they are supposed to pretend to be normal, all while consciously knowing that people are pitying them. I think maybe we've just become weird in talking about death. Maybe I'm just morbid. Probably a bit of both.
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