moms
watching my grandma die has been a very surreal experience.
i think everyone in my immediate family (well, besides jeff, maybe) thinks i am callous because i am not in an outpouring of grief, freaking out and calling her every moment because it might be her last, and what if i never get to talk to her again. but instead i think i am dealing with it in my own way.
if anyone knows i love her and will miss her, it is her. i know she knows already. i know she loves me already. she could have picked any one of her 46+ grandkids to have her diamond, and she picked me. she always asks about me and rhys. she knows that gaby and i are the real deal for her. she knows that without her i would not be the speller i am today. i wouldn't have my penmanship skills. i wouldn't be as worldly. without her i wouldn't be as kind or compassionate. i wouldn't be so strong and able to weather the storms. i wouldn't know the downs of life can always be worse than what they actually are, so i know to be grateful for what is there instead of lamenting what isn't. i know that in some weird way, she can live vicariously though me as the first female teacher of her family since the only option she had was the sisterhood or marrying grandpa martinez. i know how lucky i am to have the opportunities in my life that she never got, and i can't even picture who she might have been had someone told her that double XXs don't mean all you're good for is cooking and child rearing.
i am ready for her to go, but i am not. i want it over because until it is, i can't cry. i don't know why not on that one. maybe it is because there have been so many false alarms. so many "binky, this is it. grandma is not going to live through the night/week/?" that to cry just seems to be... not a waste of time but i am not sure *how* to describe it. premature, maybe? i don't want to mourn someone who is still here. it seems unjust. plus if i cried every time, i'd be like mom and gaby: exhausted and sick.
i am ready for her to go because i can't stand how much she wants to die and can't. i hate knowing that her body has become a prison to her. what's weird is that if she could kill herself innocently, a pill or slow o/d on morphine, i don't think she would because of her religion. god needs to do his job, i think she'd say. but what could the purpose in this possibly be? i would want to ask her and never would actually say. so instead we all sit around waiting. watching. it is a constant vigil just waiting for the inevitable to come and sweep her away.
my grammy is going away. my mom won't have her mom anymore, and that is the part that i am NOT prepared for. i am prepared to be without her. i am at peace with what an amazing gift she was to me, and that i can't have her forever. but i am not ready to know that my mom doesn't have a mom anymore. that she doesn't have anyone to be a little poopy-faced girl to, that she doesn't have the person to call and say "what do i do, mom?" to. we can get advice from so many places, but none of them mean quite the same thing as a mom's guidance. even if it is just the ear of a mother, the bond with her is one that cannot be even sort of replicated with anyone else. no matter how awesome your siblings are, or aunts or uncles (who are all gone, too...), or your friends or partner, they cannot be your mom. they cannot comfort you like mom does. and i am so sad for my mom that she will have that taken from her.
she has said multiple times recently that no one is ever ready to not have a mom, and i agree so fully, i don't know how to reply besides silence. i sure hate knowing that one day i'm going to have to do this to.
"mom. i'm going to invent a medicine that makes it so you and me never have to die, okay? we're just going to live forever, but only you and me [sorry gab- this was before your time. you can have some, too]. no one else. and we'll always be together."
as much drama as we've had, god damn do i love my mom.
i think everyone in my immediate family (well, besides jeff, maybe) thinks i am callous because i am not in an outpouring of grief, freaking out and calling her every moment because it might be her last, and what if i never get to talk to her again. but instead i think i am dealing with it in my own way.
if anyone knows i love her and will miss her, it is her. i know she knows already. i know she loves me already. she could have picked any one of her 46+ grandkids to have her diamond, and she picked me. she always asks about me and rhys. she knows that gaby and i are the real deal for her. she knows that without her i would not be the speller i am today. i wouldn't have my penmanship skills. i wouldn't be as worldly. without her i wouldn't be as kind or compassionate. i wouldn't be so strong and able to weather the storms. i wouldn't know the downs of life can always be worse than what they actually are, so i know to be grateful for what is there instead of lamenting what isn't. i know that in some weird way, she can live vicariously though me as the first female teacher of her family since the only option she had was the sisterhood or marrying grandpa martinez. i know how lucky i am to have the opportunities in my life that she never got, and i can't even picture who she might have been had someone told her that double XXs don't mean all you're good for is cooking and child rearing.
i am ready for her to go, but i am not. i want it over because until it is, i can't cry. i don't know why not on that one. maybe it is because there have been so many false alarms. so many "binky, this is it. grandma is not going to live through the night/week/?" that to cry just seems to be... not a waste of time but i am not sure *how* to describe it. premature, maybe? i don't want to mourn someone who is still here. it seems unjust. plus if i cried every time, i'd be like mom and gaby: exhausted and sick.
i am ready for her to go because i can't stand how much she wants to die and can't. i hate knowing that her body has become a prison to her. what's weird is that if she could kill herself innocently, a pill or slow o/d on morphine, i don't think she would because of her religion. god needs to do his job, i think she'd say. but what could the purpose in this possibly be? i would want to ask her and never would actually say. so instead we all sit around waiting. watching. it is a constant vigil just waiting for the inevitable to come and sweep her away.
my grammy is going away. my mom won't have her mom anymore, and that is the part that i am NOT prepared for. i am prepared to be without her. i am at peace with what an amazing gift she was to me, and that i can't have her forever. but i am not ready to know that my mom doesn't have a mom anymore. that she doesn't have anyone to be a little poopy-faced girl to, that she doesn't have the person to call and say "what do i do, mom?" to. we can get advice from so many places, but none of them mean quite the same thing as a mom's guidance. even if it is just the ear of a mother, the bond with her is one that cannot be even sort of replicated with anyone else. no matter how awesome your siblings are, or aunts or uncles (who are all gone, too...), or your friends or partner, they cannot be your mom. they cannot comfort you like mom does. and i am so sad for my mom that she will have that taken from her.
she has said multiple times recently that no one is ever ready to not have a mom, and i agree so fully, i don't know how to reply besides silence. i sure hate knowing that one day i'm going to have to do this to.
"mom. i'm going to invent a medicine that makes it so you and me never have to die, okay? we're just going to live forever, but only you and me [sorry gab- this was before your time. you can have some, too]. no one else. and we'll always be together."
as much drama as we've had, god damn do i love my mom.