So, the last blog I posted was very hopeful about my Gram. I found out a few days later that she had three strokes and two were bleeding. She wasn't going to get any better. She lost her ability to speak very soon after I had written that post and when I saw her that Friday, she barely opened her eyes. My grandma may or may not have understood the things that my sister and I told her when we were telling her how much we loved her and how much she meant to us, but that doesn't matter to me. There's not much that I believe without evidence, but I want to believe some part of my grandma heard me. She passed away a week later.
Friday, we went to her funeral and it was pretty much the worst day of my life. I don't really want to talk about it. I got to see a lot of family and we got sing her favorite hymn (yes, I sang it; it holds a lot of memories for me even if I don't hold the same religious sentiments of the song) and hear about how my Gram's love made people feel safe and loved and comfortable, but it was the hardest funeral I've ever been to and nothing that was said can give me my Gram back. That's all I'll say about that.
My Grandpa is probably moving far away to live with his daughter and I don't know when I'll be able to see him again. Isn't it just fucking ridiculous that I couldn't stop in my stupid, busy schedule of getting married, working dead-end jobs, playing on the internet, etc, to visit them more often before this? So, I'm a little bit angry. Angry at myself. Angry at life. It just hurts, you know?
Ugh. I'm reading this and it sounds horrible and angry and damnit, I'm just going to leave it because it's real. Any of you that know me IRL will understand and I just want to thank you for that. I have the best friends, family and husband in the whole wide world who texted me, facebooked me and loved the crap out of me and my family while we were going through this. My birthday was the day after my Gram's funeral and my friends and sisters made it a wonderful day, regardless of the pain we all felt.
When I'm ready, I'll post more pics of my birthday (wasn't a party or anything, just dinner and frisbee). I have some videos of me learning guitar again. Chris's mom has an old, cheap classical guitar I'm learning on because I'm having a lot of trouble on the Ibanez. I have some new running and weight goals, too. I feel pretty good about how I look right now, but I want to be more fit.
That's it. That's all I got for the night. I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Lucille
Hello family and friends! It's been some time since I regularly updated this blog. Now is as good a time as any.
My great-grandmother went into the hospital in a coma on Friday from an apparent stroke. My sisters and I met at Doctor's Hospital in Manteca expecting to say our last goodbyes to her. My Gram is nintey-six. She's lived through two world wars, the Depression and 17 presidents. She's even outlived the town in New Mexico where she was born. (Go ahead, Google Venus, NM).
The thing about grandparents, and even parents sometimes, is they've always been there. It's unimaginable to think that someday they'll be gone. My Gram is like that. It was always at her house that we spent countless summer days fishing, feeding ducks, swimming and paddle-boating in the Discovery Bay where she and Grandpa lived until about '00. Christmases, Thanksgivings and family reunions were there by default. She was the glue, our matriarch.
It's been harder and harder for her and Grandpa to get out, though my Gram still drives to church on Sundays. They don't hold holiday events anymore, it's simply too much work. Our family is a bit scattered these days, not having any one place to go and even skipping chances of seeing one another this or that year because of obligations to our own nuclear families.
This weekend, my family came back together. My mother and big sister began talking again (my sister and I just started talking ourselves a few months ago, rebuilding a very damaged relationship that used to be very, very close). Great aunts, cousins and other grandparents have used facebook to keep informed those who live too far. We were acting like a family again.
My Gram was nodding, but couldn't open her eyes. The doctors couldn't tell what kind of damage had been done because her pacemaker prevented her from having an MRI. They told us she would either wake up or she wouldn't. This weekend we could do nothing but wait. It was the worst feeling in the world.
My sisters and I haven't seen a lot of our Gram since she moved to Manteca and we've gotten out on our own, living at least an hour and a half away from her and from each other. Our lives are busy and we make excuses and, like I said, there was this sense that Gram would always be there. Knowing we might lose her and never be able to make up for that was heart-wrenching.
I'll tell you what kind of procrastinators we are. My Gram gave me three baby spider plants from hers about three years ago. Two of them I potted and the third I had neither pot nor dirt for. It lived in a Pom juice glass for almost three years. This weekend I got my lazy butt up and potted the darn thing and named it Lucille. It was all I could do not to lose my mind.
My Gram spoke on Monday night. I had gone to bed early, so hadn't been awake to get the messages until the next morning. It was the best news in the whole world. I know how lucky we are. Not everyone gets a second chance like this-not with a ninty-six year old great-grandma suffering a massive stroke. I'm so grateful to my family for pulling together, for Doctor's Hospital for taking such good care of my Gram and for the latest advances in medical science treating stroke victims.
I'm going to go see my Gram this weekend. I'm going to tell her about my spider plant and tell her how much I love her and that she has always been the best grandma in the whole world. If I end up even half as awesome as her, I'll still have super-hero status. I'd like to thank all my friends and family for the support they showed during this time. I couldn't have done this without you all. Thank you.
Have a great night everyone and if you can, call your grandma.
My great-grandmother went into the hospital in a coma on Friday from an apparent stroke. My sisters and I met at Doctor's Hospital in Manteca expecting to say our last goodbyes to her. My Gram is nintey-six. She's lived through two world wars, the Depression and 17 presidents. She's even outlived the town in New Mexico where she was born. (Go ahead, Google Venus, NM).
The thing about grandparents, and even parents sometimes, is they've always been there. It's unimaginable to think that someday they'll be gone. My Gram is like that. It was always at her house that we spent countless summer days fishing, feeding ducks, swimming and paddle-boating in the Discovery Bay where she and Grandpa lived until about '00. Christmases, Thanksgivings and family reunions were there by default. She was the glue, our matriarch.
It's been harder and harder for her and Grandpa to get out, though my Gram still drives to church on Sundays. They don't hold holiday events anymore, it's simply too much work. Our family is a bit scattered these days, not having any one place to go and even skipping chances of seeing one another this or that year because of obligations to our own nuclear families.
This weekend, my family came back together. My mother and big sister began talking again (my sister and I just started talking ourselves a few months ago, rebuilding a very damaged relationship that used to be very, very close). Great aunts, cousins and other grandparents have used facebook to keep informed those who live too far. We were acting like a family again.
My Gram was nodding, but couldn't open her eyes. The doctors couldn't tell what kind of damage had been done because her pacemaker prevented her from having an MRI. They told us she would either wake up or she wouldn't. This weekend we could do nothing but wait. It was the worst feeling in the world.
My sisters and I haven't seen a lot of our Gram since she moved to Manteca and we've gotten out on our own, living at least an hour and a half away from her and from each other. Our lives are busy and we make excuses and, like I said, there was this sense that Gram would always be there. Knowing we might lose her and never be able to make up for that was heart-wrenching.
I'll tell you what kind of procrastinators we are. My Gram gave me three baby spider plants from hers about three years ago. Two of them I potted and the third I had neither pot nor dirt for. It lived in a Pom juice glass for almost three years. This weekend I got my lazy butt up and potted the darn thing and named it Lucille. It was all I could do not to lose my mind.
My Gram spoke on Monday night. I had gone to bed early, so hadn't been awake to get the messages until the next morning. It was the best news in the whole world. I know how lucky we are. Not everyone gets a second chance like this-not with a ninty-six year old great-grandma suffering a massive stroke. I'm so grateful to my family for pulling together, for Doctor's Hospital for taking such good care of my Gram and for the latest advances in medical science treating stroke victims.
I'm going to go see my Gram this weekend. I'm going to tell her about my spider plant and tell her how much I love her and that she has always been the best grandma in the whole world. If I end up even half as awesome as her, I'll still have super-hero status. I'd like to thank all my friends and family for the support they showed during this time. I couldn't have done this without you all. Thank you.
Have a great night everyone and if you can, call your grandma.
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