An email from my mother yesterday drastically changed my state of mind. My Nan, who has been hospitalised at home for the last month or so, is back in hospital. The prognosis really isn’t good. She is approaching the end of her life fast and we are now talking about days rather than months.
After an emotional chat with my mum, I felt compelled to look into a range of possibilities to get myself home. The constant tears flowing from my heart were clouding my judgment, making it impossible to be reasoned with. Yet, mum tried to make me see why going over wouldn’t be of any help. At this stage, Nan barely speaks anymore, cannot hear as they had to remove her hearing aids and is out of it most of the time, barely aware of who is around. And as mum said, I spent a large amount of quality time with Nan in February and she wants me to keep that last memory rather than see her mother in her current condition.
Three more phone calls later, I put together a little note for mum to take to Nan. Something simple, including a picture of Nan with all her grand-children, telling her how much I love her. Putting it together was hard as I was faced with the inevitable reality of what is happening. The sadness that filled me what unexpectedly overwhelming. I knew that no matter how prepared you are for the death of a loved one, the feeling of sadness is inevitable. I just had forgotten how intense the pain could be. Selfishly, I wish it would all be over, for my own sake, while at the same time, the idea of her departure breaks my heart. I went to sleep, my heart and my head crammed with emotions.
I woke up this morning filled with memories of those special moments we spent as children with Nan. It put a smile on my face, remembering all the things we used to do that drove her mad, all those expressions she used to comment on our mischief and less than perfect behaviour and the fun we had whenever we would spend our holidays with them. We sure loved to torment her a little. With her death now inevitable, when it comes, I want to be ready to share with those who knew her the things she used to do for us and the grand-mother she was.
its really hard.. i lost my beloved grandad a few months ago, he had a stroke and he went up and down for a couple of weeks before he went...part of me wanted him to go quickly, the other part wanted him to stay forever even though i knew he'd never recover and be bed-bound for the rest of his life.. saying goodbye was the hardest thing i've ever done and in the end i still dont feel like i said all i wanted to.. not by a long chalk.. i dont suppose you ever do.. i'd love just one more hug..
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