• I’m scared.

    by  • September 3, 2015 • * Safe for Work *, Uncategorized • 2 Comments

    I don’t even know where to begin. Today I felt pretty good, but now that there’s more news, the truth has folded back into reality. I’m hurting again, watching you go through this too. Grandpa was gone so fast with so much pain, and I grieved through all 3 months that he was dying. I never had a chance to talk to him because all I could do was cry. I wanted so badly to be strong for him, to tell him how much he means to me and how much I’ve learned, and now he’s been gone for 3 years. I feel like I’ve just come to terms with that now and my grieving for him has passed. There’s still a hole in me that still aches sometimes when I think too much about it, and now you’re dying too. I know the regret I feel in not making more of an effort to talk to grandpa when he was suffering through this, and I’ve made more of an effort with you, but I feel like I can’t tell you what I want to tell you. I’m stuck on the words to say because I don’t want to upset you; I know you’re scared. I come to visit you and bring you flowers and yummy treats, I brought crafts for us to do, but it all feels unreal to me. I cried and cried when I first found out you had a rare cancer and that the doctors really didn’t have an answer for us. All I could think about was grandpa. He had an easily treatable cancer, but we didn’t catch it in time to treat. It only took 3 months for him to drop weight and disappear. My thought immediately was “no”. No, I cannot go through this again. I can’t watch another close loved one disappear again. I feel selfish. I’m scared and don’t know what to do or how to be a better granddaughter to you, a better listener. 3 months ago, we were told you had 6 months. 6 months is around your birthday, my birthday, and Christmas. It felt like everything was crashing so fast and crushing me so hard when we were still in the early stages of knowing. It’s been so much slower than when grandpa was dying. You haven’t lost much weight, Other than being fatigued and having some aches and pains, you’ve mostly been the same. Now I can’t get my head around what’s happening because it feels like slow motion and I’m better adjusted to real time. In the real world, I can see what’s happening and understand and predict the outcome of things. Now things are feeling like their catching up to real time. You’ve fallen, you’ve just had two strokes, and the Hospice nurses are staying longer and keeping a closer eye on you. I want to call you, but I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be. I don’t even know if there is such a way to be anything for someone who’s dying because you’re the one leaving and going through this, while we’re the one’s left behind. I keep coming up with all these things that I want to tell you go, but I feel like if I do, it will be time for you to go when I say goodbye. I feel like there is no “right” thing to say, no “right” way to be. With all of this thinking, I still can’t come up with something that I know would feel right or make me feel better or be able to grieve less after I tell you. I know that I’m going to have regrets when you are gone, but who wouldn’t? I feel all the missed years that you won’t be here for. You’re here now, but you’re fading so fast. No amount of time that the doctors could say would ever be enough. I feel like the words said and the memories we’ve shared up till this very moment are what I’d like to remember best. I don’t know how to not make these last days with you not sad or depressing because it’s become real again. I’ve been floating in denial for these last few months because things haven’t really changed. But now I hurt so much. I hurt because I love you and there’s nothing I can do or say that will make this go away. I don’t want to have to have my “last words” with you, looming over my head and bleeding out my heart. Every second with you feels like it could be my last, and I think that’s what I’m most scared of. That’s not fair to you, or right by any means, and I’m not even sure it makes sense. I’m just scared and I miss you. I miss having the feeling that I would never have to say goodbye. I’m going to call you tomorrow to arrange some time to come see you, I’m thinking about maybe bringing my painting supplies if you’re up to it. Anything you want to do is what we’ll do. I have no idea if I’ll feel better by tomorrow, back into denial or not, but I think it’ll be better to be with you, and that’s all I can do to show you that I love you.

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    2 Responses to I’m scared.

    1. Fen
      September 3, 2015 at 5:04 pm

      <3




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    2. Author
      September 7, 2015 at 4:18 pm

      I’m doing better and have gone to see my grandma. I’m here for her in any way that I can be and I’ve told her this. I’m definitely feeling a lot less like I’m drowning in quick sand, and more like I’ve found my vine to not only hang on, but slowly pull myself back out.




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