Losing My Grandma.

Originally written on: June 10, 2011.

Na na, na na na, na na
I miss you, miss you so bad
I don't forget you, oh it's so sad
I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found it won't be the same
Oh

Na na na na na na na

I didn't get around to kiss you
Goodbye on the hand
I wish that I could see you again
I know that I can't

Oh
I hope you can hear me cause I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found it won't be the same
Oh

I had my wake up
Won't you wake up
I keep asking why
And I can't take it
It wasn't fake
It happened, you passed by

Now you are gone, now you are gone
There you go, there you go
Somewhere I can't bring you back
Now you are gone, now you are gone
There you go, there you go,
Somewhere you're not coming back

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found it won't be the same no..
The day you slipped away
Was the day that I found it won't be the same oh...

Na na, na na na, na na
I miss you
-Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne

I wrote this on June 4, the day after I lost my Grandma, one of my best friends.


Yesterday afternoon, my Grandma lost her battle with cancer.  I was with her at the hospital.  She went in Tuesday morning after falling.  Tuesday night my parents and I drove to Colorado.  By the time we got to the hospital Wednesday morning, it was a 50/50 chance of making it.  She couldn’t talk, but I would sit with her and hold her hand.  I didn’t want to say anything though because I felt like if I did, I was saying goodbye.  My Dad, with tears in his eyes, said, talk to her.  She wants to hear your voice.  I broke down and said I couldn’t yet.  But my Grandma would make faces at me and shake her head and squeeze my hand.  When we went in Thursday morning, we put her on a respirator because she couldn’t breathe on her own anymore.  We didn’t want to give up on her yet.  When we left Thursday night, she had a fever of 102.4 and she wouldn’t squeeze our hands.  She wouldn’t make faces.  She wouldn’t move.  I had a hard time falling asleep.  I wanted to be with her at the hospital.  My parents made me stay though.  They didn’t want to see me hurting.  I cried myself to sleep.  At 7am we were at the hospital. It was just my parents and I and my Granddad.  The dr told us she was failing.  Her fever was finally at 99 but it was up to us.  We went back to the house and we all decided that we didn’t want her to be in pain anymore.  We went back to the hospital and asked them to remove the breathing tube.
We all went and said goodbye. I was the last one to go in.  My Granddad and Dad kept asking me if I needed someone with me.  I said, I’m okay, I need to say goodbye by myself.  As I sat by her and held her hand, I sobbed.  I’m sobbing now.  I said, I love you so much Grandma.  I love you so much.  I know you’re going to be up in Heaven and you’re gonna be watching over me, but I miss you like hell already and I don’t know what to do about Granddad.  He’s never been on his own before, but I promise to try and take care of him.  I love you so much Grandma.  I was named after you and I hope that I’m half the woman that you are.  I hope I can wear the name well and make you proud of me.  I love you so much, Grandma.  Then my Dad came in and helped me leave.  Even the nurses were crying.  They took us to the family room in the ICU and said they would remove the tube but it would take a few hours for her to stop.  A minute later they came in and said we could be with her.  My Granddad and my cousin left because he couldn’t see his wife go.  He wanted to go plant her flowers and asked us to call when she was gone.  We walked in to her room and my Dad and his sister held her hand.  I held her, too.  She was breathing very shallow and it sounded like she was snoring.  Then about 30 seconds later, her eyes rolled back.  I said, I think she’s gone.  My Dad touched her forehead and everyone was sobbing.  Then she breathed the final time and we called my Granddad back.  When he got back a few minutes later, we all hugged him.  I had never seen my Granddad cry until this.  He was sobbing and said, I didn’t take good enough care of her.  We told him he did everything right and the doctor came in and helped him to make arrangements at the funeral home.  We all had thought she was going to pull through, but she didn’t.
We left the room 2 minutes later. I was the last one to leave.  As I left, I touched her hand and said, I love you so much, Grandma.  Her hand was already cold and it felt like wax.  That’s what really bothered me.    This morning, my Granddad asked me if I would speak at her funeral on Tuesday.  She’s being cremated so I won’t be looking at her.  I wrote my thing and I’m practicing now.  I don’t feel like eating.  I don’t feel like doing anything.  I’m having trouble sleeping.
—-
I’m writing this today.  It’s been 1 week now since she’s been gone.  I spoke at her funeral.  Then we drove back home.  I’d be lying if I said I’m fine now.  Because I’m not.  I’m hanging on though.  I’m allowing myself to grieve, but I’m working extremely hard to not fall into depression.   My Grandma was one of my best friends.  She was an amazing woman and I miss her like crazy.  I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, and the worst part is, I shouldn’t have had to.
She had stage 4 cancer, but that’s not what killed her.  Her doctor refused to give her the necessary shots after cancer treatments, even though her insurance covered it 100%.  If she had gotten those shots like she was supposed to, she would still be here.  She wouldn’t have gotten pneumonia because her immune system wouldn’t have been failing.  I wouldn’t have lost my best friend.  I wouldn’t have lost my Grandma.  My Dad would still have his mother.  My Granddad would still have his soul mate.
But the doctor didn’t care about that.  He saw a 76 year old and said, whatever she deserves to die.  He may not have said that directly, but he might as well have.
I know I’m angry right now.  I know that it’s a part of the process.  I still feel her with me everywhere.  I know it’s a part of my process and I know that I’ll feel better eventually.  It will take me a while, but I know it’s okay to grieve.
It doesn’t make you any less of a person.  It doesn’t mean that you’re weak for shedding tears, or for getting angry.  Or for bargaining.  I even started asking God why He answered other prayers of mine, but not the one with my Grandma.  God, why did You take her and give me something that seems so insignificant now?  I’d rather have her, didn’t You know that?  I fasted and prayed.  I cried.  Why did You let her go like that?
But I know that she’s with You now.  She’s in a better place.  She’s out of pain.  And I can rejoice in that.  There's still light, even in the darkest places.