It all started on July 8th, when I lost my Grandma Howard unexpectedly. I'd really like to, at some point, take the time to write out how I feel about that. But now is not the time. Simply because I don't have the energy, and that's not what this post is about. A couple days later, my friend Madison went through absolute hell with personal issues. Then, my great-grandma was placed in the hospital due to her having trouble breathing. The next day, my grandma was taken to the hospital after her blood sugar dipped below 15. Which, even if you're not familiar with diabetes, is so near death that even we are baffled as to why she's still with us. After that, my grandpa was admitted to the hospital after having a mini-stroke. And on Friday, my great-grandma was placed back into the hospital. That's what this post is about, really. Her. She's not doing well. Not well at all. I guess there's a part of me that knew this was coming. It's why I moved home this summer, to be near family. I knew that she was getting worse and worse and worse, but I didn't want it to be true.
I don't know all the medical terms for it, or even really what is going on. But what I do know is that she can't breathe. Ever. She's consistently on oxygen because she just can't breathe otherwise. She can't even get out of her chair and walk to the kitchen - a distance of less than twenty feet - without feeling out of breath. She's scared to take a shower because the steam makes it too hard to breathe. My great-grandma is literally suffocating to death, and there is not much they can do except watch her. They can postpone the inevitable, but they can't stop it. Or even make her feel better. Over the last couple days I've seen her go from sitting down and being able to breathe, to simply sitting up in her hospital bed and being breathless as though she'd ran a mile.
Quite frankly, it's breaking my heart.
Today, my mom informed me that when my great-grandma says her prayers every night, she tells God that whenever he's ready for her, she wants to go. She's ready to die. And that's a thought that both terrifies me and makes me happy. Utterly, completely selfishly, I don't want her to die. I don't want to let go of this person that I love so completely. I want her to be around forever, to give me advice and tell me stories. I want the woman that helped raise me, that made me mac & cheese and mashed potatoes summer after summer because I didn't want to eat anything else. I don't want her to go anywhere, because she's my great-grandma, and she's so, so important to me.
However, then I think rationally. I think about the way she's living, the way she can't do anything. Almost everything she's loved has been taken from her. She can't work puzzles anymore because the movement wears her out. She can't cook because she can't be on her feet. She can't go shopping or go outside or go to church or play with her grandchildren. She doesn't have a life, she has a stationary position in a chair in front of a tv. She is miserable. She is suffocating to death. Every day she gets a little worse. And while I don't want her to go away, I realize that there comes a time when she needs to. Because she doesn't have a life anymore. She's not happy, and as much as I want her, I realize that it's getting to the point when I need to let go.
I'm scared. I don't want to have to come to that. But it's coming, and I'm trying to prepare myself for that. But for now, I want to be there as much as I can. Because I only have so much time left, and I don't want to waste a minute.
When my grandma died, they gave us this pamphlet talking about grief. They gave us a grief counselor and recommended therapy. They said that, a lot of the time, before somebody dies, they know long beforehand that it's going to happen and they prepare themselves.
ReplyDeleteIt doesn't make it any easier on the rest of the people dealing with the loss, and it's almost scary to think that somebody (especially somebody from a timeperiod where doctors could fix everything and were paramount to Gods) could prepare themselves for death, but I like to look at it in a different way.
Nathan says that he thinks Death is more or less falling asleep, and what happens afterwards is more or less a dream that our brains create to process it. He thinks it lasts more or less fifteen seconds, but that our minds stretch it on forever and it's just simplistic nothing - no pain, no hate, no sadness, just freedom.
Jon thinks that when we die, we become a person that was never known in life. A person, a being, an energy that is completely removed from all the woes that come with being human. All the defects, all the badness, and that we go to Heaven (or wherever you choose) and we watch over those who love us and are free and happy and they can express the things they couldn't express in life anymore.
I suppose I believe a combination of those two things, with the added component that absolutely nobody is really gone. Our legacies, our imprints, while more or less insignificant, will effect the people we leave behind. Those people will do the same to the people they leave behind and our message, our purpose, our lessons and our love will carry on through the ages. Our souls are in a place where we can do better for the world - much better than we could as human. Our energies will go into the plants, the air, the animals, and the people still here, and our souls will guide and love and move and flow freely and openly and peacefully. There is no limit to the beauty that comes after our physical beings perish, I think, and it's not something to be afraid of.
I know that it's hard, and I know that it's really hard to think like this in the moment and with what you're going through, but during my personal issues and especially after, there came the conclusion that what we need to do is be happy and joyful for that person while they're alive and especially after they pass. They are no longer in pain - no matter what you believe, and I know you're not very clear on that - they are absolutely somewhere better than here on Earth (and while here on Earth is beautiful, it's simply preparing our souls for the wonderful and beautiful existence ahead of us.)
It's going to be okay. I promise.