I’m lost, scrambling, overwhelmed and resigned. I have 21 minutes until my computer battery dies. Although I have the cord, I will not plug it back in until tomorrow. A dead battery is a good reminder to do something else.
But I want to take a minute to refocus, to articulate, to let go. My grandma is dying. We went north to visit her again this past weekend. A twelve hour Saturday included eight hours of driving and four hours of visiting. Before I left, I went into her tiny cabin and told her I loved her, we would all miss her, but if it was her time to go, she should do what she needed to do. Tonight I got a call from my mom tonight letting me know that grandma called her children to her bedside and told them it won’t be long. I wish I knew how grandma knows this.
One night last January in a ICU hospital room in Fargo I told my medically sedated father the same thing. He started crashing within a few hours. I hope my grandma and dad know I don’t want them to go. I hope they know I wasn’t asking them to die. I hope they understand I simply wanted them to know it was okay. That we’d be okay.
This morning I found out my aunt was rushed to the hospital in Fargo, the same hospital I was born in, the same one my father died in. She’s not well, but that’s all I know.
This is the aunt I admired greatly when I was small. She has the longest, sincerest laugh I know. I remember wanting to be like her.
This is my last living grandparent. My middle name is her name. Although we were never close because of my mom’s distant relationships with her family, I’ve always loved my grandma dearly.
This was my father, the one who named me and taught me to love and live and love to learn.
I’m tired of loss, of grieving, of missing. 2009 has been an awfully hard year.