Grief
Saturday, May 7th, at 1:30 PM my grandmother, Helga Karolina, passed away. I think I'm still in the first stage of mourning, because, although I cried I couldn't face it. I ran away, out of that house where you couldn't cut the despair with a chainsaw and camped out at my friends' instead. I never got to see her in her last moments, because we all knew it was going to happen that day and my parents didn't want our (my sister's and my) memories of her tainted with her fragility and degradation in the hospital. Still. I wish, I could remember that last thing I said to her. I think it was "Goodbye" and a kiss, so if so I am content. It's not so much that she's gone, but watching my father, my uncles, so many people grieve is hard and then I cry and then it fuels their sadness . . .
The funeral is on Tuesday.
The funeral is on Tuesday.