Why is that if everything is going well in your life, there has to be one thing reaking havoc on it somewhere?
I am loving life right now. I am playing volleyball about 4 times a week (which is starting to show up in physical ways…amazing calves, thighs that are catching up, some definition in my arms and back, less tiredness); I feel like my friends are realy appreciating spending time with me lately–really enjoying my company; I have been funnier lately; I am more relaxed; work is pretty good (even if the business is in a slow period); my blog traffic is up a bit; I am feeling more comfortable with being single at the moment…All in all life is good. Except, for my grandmother. I can’t understand how I can be so happy with most of my life and so utterly depressed about her. I know outwardly you can’t see how much it upsets me that she is so sick, and most of the time, I can’t feel it inwardly either, but now and then, about once a day, I just breakdown. I am heartbroken at the thought of losing her.
She is so important to me. We had just started developing a wonderful relationship when she got sick. It wasn’t until later in college that I realized how amazing she was and it wasn’t until grad school that I started really becoming friends with her–instead of just having a granddaughter/grandmother relationship. I feel like I have missed out on so much. Like I wasted so much time. She has so much knowledge to give me and I am not ready to lose that. I’m not ready for my last visit with her to have been in a hospital room. I need it to be out at restaurant watching her get cooed at by 5’11” models by day/hostess’ by night. I need to play Scrabble with her again. I need to hear stories about how “wild” she was when she was single.
Her cousins are in New York right now looking after things, and one of them called today saying we need to take her home. She needs to be at home with a 24-hour nurse, because she will either get better there having more attention and being in her own home, or she will die at home. That last part is what got me. What upset me enough to have me crying at work.
I have this enormous guilt that I haven’t been a good enough granddaughter. Everyone says I am an amazing granddaughter to her, but all I can see are the things I didn’t do. Was it really so much for her to ask for thank you notes and phone calls? No. And did I do those things, yes, but there were occasions I forgot. How hard was it to do? She didn’t ask for hour long conversations (although they often became that) all she wanted was a quick hello. And she gave me so much, and I managed to not always have time to say thank you in writing? How callous of me. It seems so petty to me now to have not written every thank you note she deserved, to not have called every single week. To not have visited at least once a year. I had better things to do.
I am just so completely not ready to say good bye to her. And maybe I won’t have to, but at the moment I wonder if that is possible. The people at the nursing home/rehab facility think she has dementia and and sinility. She doesn’t. She’s just sick. She was like you or me before this started two months ago. She was fine. We can’t convince them of this.
I just want her well, and back in my life in a positive way. I want to talk to her again, and have her marvel at how I can multi task by shopping in the supermarket as we talk. She loves that! I want her to warn me about the evils of binge drinking because she just read an article about it in the New York Times and I have just told her I am going to go have a margarita with some girlfriends. I want her to make that kiss, kiss sound at the end of our phone calls again.
Kiss, kiss, Mamaw. I love you so much.