![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Not the best news at 12:30 in the morning
Aug. 9th, 2006 01:40 amMy uncle just called me to let me know that my grandmother died tonight. Of course, with him calling, there really wasn't any other news it could possibly be, so I knew what he was calling about as soon as I heard his voice.
True to her form and increasing dementia ( I believe ), my grandmother had failed to let me know she had congestive heart failure, so her going to sleep and simply not waking up again was probably about as good an end as we could have hoped for with her. She had described her condition as "retaining water", and you'd think someone with a little medical background like I have could have put 2 and 2 together and come up with 5. At least I feel better that I had started calling her on a regular basis. I'd even bought one of those cheesy "talking picture albums" so I could record little messages to her for her to hear along with seeing the pictures.
When my grandmother moved out of the house she'd lived in for 45 years, and parceled up all the belongings to distribute to family members, I hate to say it, but there was acrimony. I would never have suspected my family would be like that, but there I was, proved wrong. She and my mother had a falling out, and I don't believe they had talked in the past year since my grandmother had moved. I think that's going to be the hardest thing for me to come to terms with, that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make my mother see the thing that I'd realized, that fighting over stupid things wasn't worth losing your family over. I simply couldn't convince my mother to swallow her pride and just CALL her, and now she can never do it. That sucks.
So I've been writing this while drinking wine, talking to friends online, and listening to some music, and it occurs to me that this is just the end of one path, for one person. Quite possibly tomorrow, our friend Lorac will be holding her new child. As the song says, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." It doesn't prevent the pain of the loss, but it diminishes it. While my grandmother wasn't perfect (although I never realized that until I was probably about 28 years old), there was still only one woman who'd call me every other family member's name before she remembered mine (she did it to everyone), and she was still the grandmother that let me stay with her every summer for YEARS. I'd like to think I learned a few things from her, and I know I taught her a few things as well. It worked out well for us both.
Anyway, I'm rambling, and this bottle of wine is about done, so that means it's time for a monster glass of water and some bed. Perhaps some crying. I'm sure it'll come sooner or later.'
Goodnight, grandma. I love you always.
True to her form and increasing dementia ( I believe ), my grandmother had failed to let me know she had congestive heart failure, so her going to sleep and simply not waking up again was probably about as good an end as we could have hoped for with her. She had described her condition as "retaining water", and you'd think someone with a little medical background like I have could have put 2 and 2 together and come up with 5. At least I feel better that I had started calling her on a regular basis. I'd even bought one of those cheesy "talking picture albums" so I could record little messages to her for her to hear along with seeing the pictures.
When my grandmother moved out of the house she'd lived in for 45 years, and parceled up all the belongings to distribute to family members, I hate to say it, but there was acrimony. I would never have suspected my family would be like that, but there I was, proved wrong. She and my mother had a falling out, and I don't believe they had talked in the past year since my grandmother had moved. I think that's going to be the hardest thing for me to come to terms with, that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make my mother see the thing that I'd realized, that fighting over stupid things wasn't worth losing your family over. I simply couldn't convince my mother to swallow her pride and just CALL her, and now she can never do it. That sucks.
So I've been writing this while drinking wine, talking to friends online, and listening to some music, and it occurs to me that this is just the end of one path, for one person. Quite possibly tomorrow, our friend Lorac will be holding her new child. As the song says, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." It doesn't prevent the pain of the loss, but it diminishes it. While my grandmother wasn't perfect (although I never realized that until I was probably about 28 years old), there was still only one woman who'd call me every other family member's name before she remembered mine (she did it to everyone), and she was still the grandmother that let me stay with her every summer for YEARS. I'd like to think I learned a few things from her, and I know I taught her a few things as well. It worked out well for us both.
Anyway, I'm rambling, and this bottle of wine is about done, so that means it's time for a monster glass of water and some bed. Perhaps some crying. I'm sure it'll come sooner or later.'
Goodnight, grandma. I love you always.
