My Grandmother is Dying and I’m Really F#*king Sad/Mad

I started this blog to help me deal with that which brings me down and to figure out ways of lifting me, and perhaps others, up. The irony is, when my life is at its shittiest, I stop writing. I figure it’s best not to analyse a storm til I’m on the other side of it.

I call bullshit on myself. BULLSHIT! The truth is, my life is rather messy right now and I do need to write about it.

My maternal grandmother, the only grandparent I have left, my dead Mom’s Mom, is dying and it’s all happening much faster than I want to cope with.

The Ank ring on my upper right ring finger was given to my Mom by her family for her 21st birthday. She wore it nearly every day and since she died I have worn it nearly every day. On my pinky finger is a ring given to my Grandmother on her 21st birthday. My Grandmother handed it down to me on my 21st birthday. I have worn it on many special occasions since receiving it.

Cancer, insidious bastard that it is, snuck in and went to work all over causing my Grandmother pain and neausea increasingly over the past few months. By the time the Drs figured out what was going on they delivered news she’d likely be moving on from our world in a matter of weeks, months at best.

Recently I flew out to visit with her in the hospital for five days and, although it was difficult, I thoroughly enjoyed spending time holding her hand and quietly talking to her about good memories and I made sure to tell her how much I love her.

Now I am home and I’m dealing with some stupid personal health issues on top of the usual chronic pain crap and depression/anxiety thang. So that’s awesome. I’m trying to do all the shiney, happy, lovey, dovey, “stay positive” crap but staying positive can be so fucking annoying!

My grandmother is dying and I’m pissed about it. Sure she’s 89 and she’s had a good long life but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for her to die.

Who will send me birthday, Christmas, and wedding anniversary cards with military precision every year? Who will tell me stories about my Mom? Who will keep me apprised of how everyone in the family is doing even if I occasionally haven’t the faintest idea who she’s talking about?

She’s irreplaceable and I’m sad she’s going but for now she’s still alive. I keep reminding myself of that. I can still call her and I can still make her laugh, thank goodness.

It felt really good to get all of that off my chest. I even feel a little less angry. I’m glad by writing about my Grandmother I reminded myself there’s still time and I need to take advantage of every moment I have left with her.

I’m happy I wrote this instead of continuing to retreat inwards, forgetting about the cathatic gift this blog offers me.


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