Sad news:
My mother called me on Saturday to let me know that my grandmother- the one with Alzheimer's- wasn't doing well and didn't seem as though she'd be with us much longer. She had MRSA, and contracted pneumonia. Despite regular doses of Tylenol, her fever continued to climb over the weekend; it was 104.1 on Sunday. I visited with her on Saturday and Sunday, and was on my way out the door to school on Monday when I got the call: it was time. She passed a couple of minutes before I arrived. My mother was with her in her final moments, holding her hand and singing to her quietly until my grandmother breathed her last. It was very peaceful.
I spent the rest of the day helping my mother take care of the things that needed to be done, and also being there for my baby sister, who had grown especially close to our grandmother, working as she does in the nursing home. Dad (whose mother she was) and my brother both shut down. They just kept going about their day, unable to face what had happened. NOT that they weren't hurting, but rather because they didn't know how to deal with the emotions, so they didn't. By the end of Monday, I was so tired that I crashed for 10 straight hours. Yesterday I was really out of it. I went to school and took a test, but I wasn't really present for any of it. I went to school today, having to take another test (I had 3 tests this week, and missed the first because it fell on Monday. I can make that one up, though) and I bombed it pretty badly. I talked to my prof, and she told me not to worry about it; I'm in good shape.
I was going to go to work- the first time this week- but several times today I started crying out of the blue, without feeling it coming on. Instead, I went in and spoke with my supervisor, who gave me the rest of the week off if I want it. That was nice of her.
My grandmother is being cremated, her ashes to be buried next to her husband's in New Jersey where they lived. That's one kind of nice thing: my grandfather died over 40 years ago, but my grandmother loved him so much that there was never another man as long as she lived. It's comforting to think of them as finally being reunited. The memorial service isn't until the beginning of December for various reasons, and I'm not happy about that. I hate when these things are dragged out, hate that as soon as you start to heal, the wound is ripped open again. But it isn't up to me, and that's ok.
There are a lot of good things happening around me, but that's for another time. For now, I'm hurting.
That's ok, too.
My mother called me on Saturday to let me know that my grandmother- the one with Alzheimer's- wasn't doing well and didn't seem as though she'd be with us much longer. She had MRSA, and contracted pneumonia. Despite regular doses of Tylenol, her fever continued to climb over the weekend; it was 104.1 on Sunday. I visited with her on Saturday and Sunday, and was on my way out the door to school on Monday when I got the call: it was time. She passed a couple of minutes before I arrived. My mother was with her in her final moments, holding her hand and singing to her quietly until my grandmother breathed her last. It was very peaceful.
I spent the rest of the day helping my mother take care of the things that needed to be done, and also being there for my baby sister, who had grown especially close to our grandmother, working as she does in the nursing home. Dad (whose mother she was) and my brother both shut down. They just kept going about their day, unable to face what had happened. NOT that they weren't hurting, but rather because they didn't know how to deal with the emotions, so they didn't. By the end of Monday, I was so tired that I crashed for 10 straight hours. Yesterday I was really out of it. I went to school and took a test, but I wasn't really present for any of it. I went to school today, having to take another test (I had 3 tests this week, and missed the first because it fell on Monday. I can make that one up, though) and I bombed it pretty badly. I talked to my prof, and she told me not to worry about it; I'm in good shape.
I was going to go to work- the first time this week- but several times today I started crying out of the blue, without feeling it coming on. Instead, I went in and spoke with my supervisor, who gave me the rest of the week off if I want it. That was nice of her.
My grandmother is being cremated, her ashes to be buried next to her husband's in New Jersey where they lived. That's one kind of nice thing: my grandfather died over 40 years ago, but my grandmother loved him so much that there was never another man as long as she lived. It's comforting to think of them as finally being reunited. The memorial service isn't until the beginning of December for various reasons, and I'm not happy about that. I hate when these things are dragged out, hate that as soon as you start to heal, the wound is ripped open again. But it isn't up to me, and that's ok.
There are a lot of good things happening around me, but that's for another time. For now, I'm hurting.
That's ok, too.
Like you I hate it when things drag on and on. Yet sometime. . .
I am sorry for your loss and the grief it causes.
Ralph
Hugs and Blessings,
C.