a bird does not sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song
This isn't a nice thing to document.
So my dad's mom, my grandma Alice, died at her nursing home Wednesday after being there for three weeks. Before that she was in the hospital for a fall and an infection for two weeks, and before that she was at home with my dad and my aunt Jean taking care of her. When she was at home she was actually with it. She could eat solid foods by herself, walk with her walker, and hold real conversations, but as soon as she left home she was off, like she gave up. They had her on a lot of meds and she couldn't put cohesive thoughts together. She hardly recognized anyone, but she recognized me when I went to the hospital to see her and told me I had combed my hair very nicely. At another point she thought I was her daughter Joan who died in 1982. But in the nursing home, they had her on meds so she would stay asleep, since she would have panic attacks when she was awake. She couldn't move or talk at all. So on Wednesday they took her off all meds and oxygen, and she died at 1:40 in the afternoon, while I was on my way to see her.
It didn't hit me at all that she was dead until the funeral today. She was 94 and she'd been senile for as long as I could remember. She was obviously in pain, so I was happy she was done with all of that. But today just sucked.
We met at the funeral home around 8:30, despite the snow. There was an open casket, and it took me almost half an hour to go up to it. First of all, I have no idea how to pray. Also, I didn't like the idea that it was my grandma's corpse in the box. But I went up and stayed for a while. I left when I started getting dizzy, since looking at someone who appeared to be sleeping made me expect the movement of a pulse and breathing. I hung on my dad's arm for a bit, and then left with my cousin Stephanie (my aunt Jean's daughter, who is in her 30's with two children) to go to the church. Steph and I decided Grandma had made sure it would snow, since she loved little pretty things that were exciting like that.
At the church, my cousins Cassidy (aunt Jean's son's daughter) and Justine (aunt Jude's daughter) handed out programs and brought the gifts of bread, wine, and water up to the altar. I got sniffly once or twice, but that was it. My brother was a pall bearer and my mom did a reading with Joyce, my uncle Bill's wife. My cousin Chris, my aunt Jean's son, gave the eulogy. He talked about how my grandma's favorite things were the little instances in life that made her smile, like when Chris and his son Dustin bought her a new little TV and installed it. The last part of the eulogy was a surprise for most of us.
My grandma absolutely loved tape recorders. She recorded everything, from her birds singing to her grandkids reading to the everyone getting together to take the yearly Santos family picture. The particular tape Chris chose to play as a part of the eulogy was one of a certain little girl reciting nursery rhymes with Grandma prompting and helping. When it started playing, I could hardly understand the garbled sound over the microphone. My cousin Justine asked if it was Cassidy, and Cassidy told me that it was me. The tape ended in a chuckle from Grandma and me giggling.
At the end of the service, people were starting to file out, but Stephanie was staying behind and crying. I made my way over to her and we cried for a bit, Steph eventually reaching a full-out sob. We got back in the car, discussed how much it had sucked, and went to the cemetary. We went into the chapel because of the snow. I started realizing it then that my grandma was in the box and that was that, end of story. So that was tough and sucky too.
It's just awful to think that there's no chance whatsoever that I could possibly go see that batty old lady sitting in her armchair in her house. The fact that I can't get around that is the worst part.
Despite the unpleasant nature of the weekend, it's made me much closer to my dad's family, especially Stephanie. I guess that's a good thing.
So my dad's mom, my grandma Alice, died at her nursing home Wednesday after being there for three weeks. Before that she was in the hospital for a fall and an infection for two weeks, and before that she was at home with my dad and my aunt Jean taking care of her. When she was at home she was actually with it. She could eat solid foods by herself, walk with her walker, and hold real conversations, but as soon as she left home she was off, like she gave up. They had her on a lot of meds and she couldn't put cohesive thoughts together. She hardly recognized anyone, but she recognized me when I went to the hospital to see her and told me I had combed my hair very nicely. At another point she thought I was her daughter Joan who died in 1982. But in the nursing home, they had her on meds so she would stay asleep, since she would have panic attacks when she was awake. She couldn't move or talk at all. So on Wednesday they took her off all meds and oxygen, and she died at 1:40 in the afternoon, while I was on my way to see her.
It didn't hit me at all that she was dead until the funeral today. She was 94 and she'd been senile for as long as I could remember. She was obviously in pain, so I was happy she was done with all of that. But today just sucked.
We met at the funeral home around 8:30, despite the snow. There was an open casket, and it took me almost half an hour to go up to it. First of all, I have no idea how to pray. Also, I didn't like the idea that it was my grandma's corpse in the box. But I went up and stayed for a while. I left when I started getting dizzy, since looking at someone who appeared to be sleeping made me expect the movement of a pulse and breathing. I hung on my dad's arm for a bit, and then left with my cousin Stephanie (my aunt Jean's daughter, who is in her 30's with two children) to go to the church. Steph and I decided Grandma had made sure it would snow, since she loved little pretty things that were exciting like that.
At the church, my cousins Cassidy (aunt Jean's son's daughter) and Justine (aunt Jude's daughter) handed out programs and brought the gifts of bread, wine, and water up to the altar. I got sniffly once or twice, but that was it. My brother was a pall bearer and my mom did a reading with Joyce, my uncle Bill's wife. My cousin Chris, my aunt Jean's son, gave the eulogy. He talked about how my grandma's favorite things were the little instances in life that made her smile, like when Chris and his son Dustin bought her a new little TV and installed it. The last part of the eulogy was a surprise for most of us.
My grandma absolutely loved tape recorders. She recorded everything, from her birds singing to her grandkids reading to the everyone getting together to take the yearly Santos family picture. The particular tape Chris chose to play as a part of the eulogy was one of a certain little girl reciting nursery rhymes with Grandma prompting and helping. When it started playing, I could hardly understand the garbled sound over the microphone. My cousin Justine asked if it was Cassidy, and Cassidy told me that it was me. The tape ended in a chuckle from Grandma and me giggling.
At the end of the service, people were starting to file out, but Stephanie was staying behind and crying. I made my way over to her and we cried for a bit, Steph eventually reaching a full-out sob. We got back in the car, discussed how much it had sucked, and went to the cemetary. We went into the chapel because of the snow. I started realizing it then that my grandma was in the box and that was that, end of story. So that was tough and sucky too.
It's just awful to think that there's no chance whatsoever that I could possibly go see that batty old lady sitting in her armchair in her house. The fact that I can't get around that is the worst part.
Despite the unpleasant nature of the weekend, it's made me much closer to my dad's family, especially Stephanie. I guess that's a good thing.