My grandmother-in-law dies today

I had no clue. Apparently she's been in the hospital in serious condition for about two months now. A few days ago, she went through surgery. However, after the surgery her vital organs have been slowly shutting off one by one.

Yesterday afternoon, I received a text message from my (ex)husband. He told me that she's been on life support, but her wishes are not to take any extra measures to keep her alive. So the family has been keeping her on life support until everyone can say their goodbyes.

Late last night, I finally found out what hospital she was at. It was about half an hours drive, which at 11 p.m. was fine. Well semi-fine. Half of the trip there, I was in tears. And doing 80. I kept thinking to myself how ironic it would be if I crashed the car and instead of one death this week, there would be two.

I got to the hospital and my (ex)husband, his uncle, and niece were already at her bedside. She had all kinds of tubes going in and coming out of her. I must say though, I've seen a lot worse. The hospital was nice as well as the staff.

It was awkward being there with the ex's family and the ex. He kept on looking at me, and while I wanted to give him consolation I was in no position to give it. Grandma woke a few times. Everytime she opened her eyes, her son and granddaughter rushed to the bed. This happened about five times. I let them say hello to her, as they flew in from Seattle and I live only an hour's drive away. I wished she could have seen that I was there though. There was no, "and your other grandson and granddaughter are here." While I know it wasn't time for pettiness, I just wished one of those times he could have made a half turn and mentioned we had both visited.

At one point, they all went to the cafeteria, while I offerred to watch grandma. I rubbed her hand and looked at her nails. The nail polish had mostly rubbed off, and all I could think was, "I wish I could paint her nails right now. She loved getting her hair and nails done."

Clasped in her hand was a picture of her late husband. Years later and her dying thoughts are of reuniting with her loved ones. It was beautiful. Oddly enough I think her consolation will probably be ours too. Her clasping that picture tightly is an indicator that she's ready. She's not afraid. That she believes she's going somewhere better.

When my ex returned, I bade my farewell. Had I stayed any later I would have run myself off the road from exhaustion. On the way home, I was rolling down windows, blasting the a/c, and shouting out street names, just to keep awake.

My roommates had called earlier around 11. I had texted them back a few times later in the night, but received no responses back. I really hadn't expected it. It had been a long day, we all had work in the morning. I had already declined their company before leaving, but honestly I don't know if that was the best idea. Some moments I was grateful they weren't there, and others I desperatly needed them. And I only had my stubborness to blame.

When I arrived home, the apartment was pitch black. I just kind of stared into space, not knowing what to do first, or even sure I had the energy to do anything. So I kind of kept busy smoking a cigarette, laying out the new comforter on my bed, rearranged my bedroom, changed into my pajamas, then fell on my bed to fall into a teary slumber.

This morning wasn't any better. I felt bitter and emotional. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to close up and be left alone. But a part of me still wanted to reach out, hug and be hugged. I think a large part of me still fears to care anymore. There's still a little girl inside of me that is sure it's inevitable to always get my heart broken. So I hole up inside, tell myself to be tough, and then just hope for numbness.

It's horribly ridiculous and immature, but we seem to be a slave to our emotions.

Who knows what today will bring. I have already bought a box of Kleenex for my desk and wait patiently by my phone waiting for word on her condition. I'm half tempted to just go in an paint her nails. Tell her that she's handling this much better than I. And then wait for that moment when she's no longer with us.