This blog has been dead for a while. I'm in a hospice home with my grandmother, who suffered a brain aneurysm last week. She's in a coma now. She's not coming out of it. We have unplugged all the machines, but her body is still plugging away on autopilot. There is no brain activity. And I guess I can only write in these stilted sentences.
My mother and I have been sitting with my grandmother day and night here. None of my other relatives can do it. They come in, stay for a while, say "I can't do this" and leave soon after. I don't hold it against them at all. But my mother just can't leave my grandmother lying alone in this room in this house full of dying people. And I can't bear to think of my mother sitting here alone all night, every night, so I'm here too. Grandmother, mother, daughter together at the end of this journey — it's kind of poetic. It's almost like we have transformed this depressing disinfected room into a sacred space. So there's that. Girl power. yay.
I never thought I'd pray for someone to die before, but I just want my grandmother to be at peace. We were so close. This depleted shell of a person lying here is not my grandmother. I'd like to think my grandmother's spirit is already somewhere nice. I hope her spirit is not tied to her body right now, waiting with the rest of us for this hell to come to an end. She was a beautiful, shining, caring person. She deserves a limo ride to that great white light or wherever the hell we go when we die. The hospice chaplain comes to talk to me and I just stare at him blankly. I'm not in the mood for happy stories about heaven at the moment. If there is a God, I'd like to punch him in the face right now.
I'm amused by the men in this family who "just can't do this." My brother admitted that he comes in this room and feels starkly terrified. My grandmother has had several strokes since she's been unconscious, so her face is completely slack and unrecognizable. Her mouth is open. She doesn't breathe — she gurgles. And hell yeah, it's scary as sh*t. Her eyes opened by reflex yesterday and I screamed like someone in a horror movie. And when the lights are off, forget about it. But we are women and we are caretakers and we are strong and blah blah blah. We bring life into this world and maybe that amazing gift also gives us the fortitude to hold a hand as a life fades away. I feel blessed and slightly cursed at the same time.
In SL, all my animals are dying. I get emails from my cats, wailing that they're 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 percent hungry and it suddenly seems ridiculous to me. There's free wireless Internet here in the hospice home, but most of the time I don't feel like staring at a computer screen for very long.
So that's my story. Oh and I got laid off last week. So there's that too.
I'm having one hell of a month. It's kicking my ass all over the place. I hope yours is better. If you are the praying type, my grandmother's name is Gretchen. Please ask God to come take her home.
Love and hugs,