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Nov. 6th, 2006 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinsyGrandma had a stroke on Tuesday. It was really minor, and she doesn’t have any lasting effects from it. But she’s still in the hospital because of all the stuff that’s happened since the surgery. They don’t know what’s wrong with her. It could be anything from cancer to epilepsy; right now they’re leaning toward the latter.
I went home this past weekend and went to hospital to visit her. She looked awful: pale and weak and thin, and her hair was gray because she hasn’t been to hairdresser is so long, and it was horrible. Mostly she sleeps, and when does talk she’s usually confused, and she has to speak slowly and her speech is all slurred. And it suddenly all hit me that she’s old and that she could die. I mean, I always knew she was going to die, but I don’t think I ever really let myself believe it … I didn’t want to.
This is the woman who helped raise me: she took me shopping and out to eat; she taught me everything I know about cards, and read to me, and sang me those amazing lullabies nobody sings anymore; she’s the sole reason my mom, and two sisters, and I didn’t end up sharing some rundown one-bedroom apartment somewhere. You know, she looked so young that when she took me shopping people thought she was my mother. How can she die?
I used to think death would make you flip out, but it’s really much more subtle than that and much more horrible. I’m just sitting here, helpless, and life is going on, and I don’t understand how.
How can things go back to the way they were? How can I carry on with all of life’s little commonplaces? Who cares about what someone is wearing or how short the shortest pair of shorts you own is? How can I worry about doing my research paper and studying for Bio and registering for classes? How can I dance to ridiculously loud music and check the Internet and watch Friends like nothing’s wrong? How can I hold it together, when inside I am falling apart? And to think that a week ago I was worried about something as trivial as a guy! And this whole week has been so surreal, and I want to cry and scream at people for being so stupid and self-absorbed and caught up in trivial things. But mostly I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want to know she’s at home, okay, and the way she was, and I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.
And I don’t know why people keep telling me about the stupid stages of grief. Like that’s supposed to make me feel better. “Oh, I’m in the anger stage right now. Only two more stages to go.” And then what? And then I’ll be able to carry on with my life, without this person, and life is going to go on. And to me that all says, “Who cares that they’re gone?” Besides, I’m not convinced those stages are accurate. I seem to be experiencing denial, anger, and resolution or whatever the hell it is, all at the same time. And why do I care what stage I’m in (if they even exist) and why does it matter?
And fuck it all.
I went home this past weekend and went to hospital to visit her. She looked awful: pale and weak and thin, and her hair was gray because she hasn’t been to hairdresser is so long, and it was horrible. Mostly she sleeps, and when does talk she’s usually confused, and she has to speak slowly and her speech is all slurred. And it suddenly all hit me that she’s old and that she could die. I mean, I always knew she was going to die, but I don’t think I ever really let myself believe it … I didn’t want to.
This is the woman who helped raise me: she took me shopping and out to eat; she taught me everything I know about cards, and read to me, and sang me those amazing lullabies nobody sings anymore; she’s the sole reason my mom, and two sisters, and I didn’t end up sharing some rundown one-bedroom apartment somewhere. You know, she looked so young that when she took me shopping people thought she was my mother. How can she die?
I used to think death would make you flip out, but it’s really much more subtle than that and much more horrible. I’m just sitting here, helpless, and life is going on, and I don’t understand how.
How can things go back to the way they were? How can I carry on with all of life’s little commonplaces? Who cares about what someone is wearing or how short the shortest pair of shorts you own is? How can I worry about doing my research paper and studying for Bio and registering for classes? How can I dance to ridiculously loud music and check the Internet and watch Friends like nothing’s wrong? How can I hold it together, when inside I am falling apart? And to think that a week ago I was worried about something as trivial as a guy! And this whole week has been so surreal, and I want to cry and scream at people for being so stupid and self-absorbed and caught up in trivial things. But mostly I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want to know she’s at home, okay, and the way she was, and I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.
And I don’t know why people keep telling me about the stupid stages of grief. Like that’s supposed to make me feel better. “Oh, I’m in the anger stage right now. Only two more stages to go.” And then what? And then I’ll be able to carry on with my life, without this person, and life is going to go on. And to me that all says, “Who cares that they’re gone?” Besides, I’m not convinced those stages are accurate. I seem to be experiencing denial, anger, and resolution or whatever the hell it is, all at the same time. And why do I care what stage I’m in (if they even exist) and why does it matter?
And fuck it all.
