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Dreaded Week Two

So on Monday morning of the second week I get this phonecall from my mom. Turns out that my grandfather had died the previous day. Most people would be like, "Eh, okay, another one's gone," but you have to keep in mind that all my other grandparents are alive.

I'm 23 and I've just had my first grandparent die.

But he had been sick for the past few weeks (he had a bad case of viral pneumonia--not that any viral pneumonia is good...), so it wasn't THAT big a shock. He had had a series of small strokes over the past 10 years that had basically left nothing behind. I think we had all said our goodbye's to Gramps a long time ago. At the end, he was so demented that when they put food in his mouth he didn't know what to do with it. They suctioned out his lungs a number of times, but they were filling up fast, and when you get to be a certain age, when your health is at a certain point, and especially since he was so demented, they stop treating you. Not that he could have made it anyway, but it's still a little disturbing. So they stopped suctioning him out and they put a patch on him that delivered a highly-potent narcotic into his system (not that he would have noticed his own death anyway). He was apparently breathing very rapidly at the end because there was so little space left in his lungs, but he died from exhaustion, old age, illness...more so than from suffocation. And with the narcotics, he didn't know what was going on anyway. Which, although somewhat scary, seems like a pretty good way to go. It's nice that he didn't experience any pain.

I wonder, though, which I would prefer. I mean, you only die once, so maybe it would be worth the experience. But I guess death frequently isn't really up to the dying, now is it?

Obviously I didn't get to go to the funeral, so it's all been a little unreal (or it was until Mom and Dad described how the funeral went when we spoke again later on in the week). They said he looked good, albeit thinner than he had ever been in life.

Then Mom told me the news that got me (we're back on the Monday of week two, btw): Ruby had died. Mom told me that she had died peacefully (no suffering like Shadow-Ginger), but still. It makes me happy that I never wasted a single minute with her. She and I enjoyed every moment we spent together. It still makes me cry to think about it, though.

(I'm about to start bawling in the middle of the office, so maybe I'll write about her again later when I'm a bit more in control of myself.)

So Monday really, really sucked. Then I went out that evening to check my mail (I hadn't bothered to get it earlier because there was nothing in there but a stupid flier for "demae"--"order out food"). Underneath the flier was an envelope from Fukuda-sensei that had the tickets inside for the art show I had been all excited about. FUCKING FIGURES. But I thought, "Hey, it was over on Friday and there was no way I could have gone anyway." I should have just left that thought and the tickets and the program there. I should have walked away.

But I just HAD to know when the last day was. FUCKING STUPID BITCH ME. So I check the date and it turns out that HAD I checked my mail that morning, I could have gone to the show. Monday was the last day of the show.

Talk about your adding insult to injury. I just sank into my nappy-ass couch and cried and cried and cried. I had a momentarily overwhelming desire to start beating myself (haven't done that since I switched medications this summer), followed by a desire to cut my arm to shreds (haven't done that since I was a sophomore in high school), but instead I thought about Ruby and just had a good, long cry. I just let it all out. I cried and cried and cried and went into my bedroom and cried and cried and cried some more. You think Diane Keaton cries in "Something's Gotta Give?" You haven't seen anything. I haven't cried like that in years. It was a good cry, though. It didn't start out that way, but it ended up that way (GOOD psycho-therapy works wonders).

And then it started to rain.

And it rained and I cried and it rained and I cried.

And it continued raining all through Tuesday (but luckily I stopped crying while I was still on Monday).

I just thought about Ruby and about crying about her and the saddest thing about it was that I'll miss that unconditional love so very, very much. I had it and it was beautiful and now it's gone. Which isn't to say I'll never have it again, but coming from her, it was fabulous.

I have to get home before it rains (I bike to school everyday), but I'll continue my rant about my second week of "vacation" later.

Starting with a broken umbrella in Osaka....

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
oddball79
Apr. 7th, 2004 11:31 am (UTC)
oh god... I'm sorry
*hug*

(one of those times when I wish I was any good with words)
alexakaruda
Apr. 8th, 2004 05:52 pm (UTC)
I think words are overrated sometimes. And a hug-even a digital one--can be the best medicine.

Thank you.

Btw, I assume you'll be in Nashville this summer? I'll be in town sometime between late-July and late-August.

Hopefully we'll be able to hang out or something.

-A
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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