plagued by grief
My grandma died this morning.
I've experienced deep sorrow and despair when someone dies. This is the first time I've felt relief. But with I feel guilt. I know that my grandma (Moi) had been suffering for a long time and that it's selfish of me to want to keep her. I know that she was ready to go, and that she's no longer in pain. I know that Mom and Auntieem will be able to finally move past this past horrible month of long nights and endless last breaths. And I'm glad that the inevitable resolution has finally come. I know that she lived a good, long life. I know that she's with her mom and dad and Betty again.
But I'm still crying while I know all this.
Mom called at 7.30 to tell me she died. It didn't feel real, probably because I wasn't awake. I thought about it in the shower, and I was able to tell Jen about it without any real grief. I felt sad, but I've felt constantly sad since JT died two weeks ago. I got to work and Jamey and Brandon asked why I was upset, and they were really sympathetic when I told them. But I still felt okay.
As the day has progressed, however, the idea ... the truth and the forever of it has started sinking in. I left work at lunch and came home. I think that because this has been such a long time coming that it didn't have the same, immediate, grief that other deaths in my life have had. I've been expecting this phone call every minute for the past 3 weeks. So when it came, it was just, "okay. it happened." Since then it's become more and more real. And final.
And now I think about the Christmases and Thanksgivings and Birthdays and Easters that I won't be picking up Moi and taking her home afterward. And she won't see me go on to my master's studies. And she won't see pictures of me competing in horse shows. And she won't get letters from me when I'm in Peace Corps. Or see me publish a book. And she won't see me get married. Or meet her great-grandchildren. Or tell me stories about what she and Aunt Betty did when they were young. If you've lost a family member, then you know what I'm talking about.
But I want my Moi back.
I've experienced deep sorrow and despair when someone dies. This is the first time I've felt relief. But with I feel guilt. I know that my grandma (Moi) had been suffering for a long time and that it's selfish of me to want to keep her. I know that she was ready to go, and that she's no longer in pain. I know that Mom and Auntieem will be able to finally move past this past horrible month of long nights and endless last breaths. And I'm glad that the inevitable resolution has finally come. I know that she lived a good, long life. I know that she's with her mom and dad and Betty again.
But I'm still crying while I know all this.
Mom called at 7.30 to tell me she died. It didn't feel real, probably because I wasn't awake. I thought about it in the shower, and I was able to tell Jen about it without any real grief. I felt sad, but I've felt constantly sad since JT died two weeks ago. I got to work and Jamey and Brandon asked why I was upset, and they were really sympathetic when I told them. But I still felt okay.
As the day has progressed, however, the idea ... the truth and the forever of it has started sinking in. I left work at lunch and came home. I think that because this has been such a long time coming that it didn't have the same, immediate, grief that other deaths in my life have had. I've been expecting this phone call every minute for the past 3 weeks. So when it came, it was just, "okay. it happened." Since then it's become more and more real. And final.
And now I think about the Christmases and Thanksgivings and Birthdays and Easters that I won't be picking up Moi and taking her home afterward. And she won't see me go on to my master's studies. And she won't see pictures of me competing in horse shows. And she won't get letters from me when I'm in Peace Corps. Or see me publish a book. And she won't see me get married. Or meet her great-grandchildren. Or tell me stories about what she and Aunt Betty did when they were young. If you've lost a family member, then you know what I'm talking about.
But I want my Moi back.