October 8, 2001

Troubling Dreams

prev home mail archive next Day 4 of The Great Writing Experiment Location: At the desk in the bedroom. Time: 6:00 a.m. Note: ~yawn~ Momentary Thought It's early, and yet I am not suffering unduly. High/Low High: I might come up with one later. I'm too resentful of having to go to work. Low: Missing grammy. Current Obsession Completing a high power presentation I have to give to the muckety mucks on Wednesday. Grin Source Watched "A Knight's Tale" last night. I'm a sucker for "downtrodden boy gets high class girl" movies. Singing Nuthin'. A Year Ago More or less The things I do to preserve my sanity. Storyteller Bio Dramatis Personnae Who I Read Recipes

There's an ache that is present with me constantly. It's the ache that reminds me that my grandmother is gone. I'll never hear her voice again, never hear her call me her silly little pet names for me. I'll never hear her humming to herself as she putters in the kitchen, eat her apple pie, sit beside her in the car, or watch The Price is Right with her. The loss of a loved one puts a person in the throes of the "if only's". If only I'd spent more time with her. If only I'd written more letters to her. If only I'd gone home more often. There's absolutely nothing I can do about those. But they haunt me. I wonder if I had not married X(m), if I had not moved to Arizona, if I had stayed and lived with my grandmother until the end - would that end be a kinder one than the one she experienced? Would her mind still have experienced the slow winding down that it did, if I had been there to continue to stimulate her with conversation and activity? Would I have known earlier that she was sick, instead of that fact having to be discovered by a neighbor when they didn't see her out and about for several days? I do know, even if she were sick, she would have been able to stay home. Die in her own bed, instead of being shuffled from care facility to care facility until the heart went right out of her. Last night in my dreams I saw her as she was in the hospital - a pale creature hunched over onto herself as she battled to let go of her physical body and gain release. She was too far gone to be conscious, yet not far gone enough to be without pain. It was a horrific, horrifying and heartbreaking experience, and I see it when I close my eyes. And I feel guilty. I could have given her a better ending, I know I could have. I don't want to forget, because her passing is too significant. It's something I've been dreading since I was eight years old and began to understand just how much of the foundation of my life was built upon the two people central to my life - my mother, and my grandmother. My grandmother, by nature of caring for me in my coherent years, my pivitol and developmental years, became even more of a foundation than my mother had the opportunity to become. Even when I moved away, she was the representation of my roots and my home. Some days I feel rootless, and I can never go home again. I miss her wickedly.