Live well

My grandmother passed away the night before Easter. And while I thought it wasn't going to be devestatingly sad or difficult, it has proven to be exactly that. Of course, you say...it's your grandmother. But she had had dimentia or alzheimer's for quite a few years and I couldn't remember what she was like before that. I didn't like going to my grandparents' house the last 5 or so years. It was a chore for me. I didn't have any connection to these old, dependent people. And I was torn between duty to family and anger that their care took so much of my parents' lives. Is that how it's supposed to be? I don't know. My grandmother was in the hospital for 4 weeks then a nursing home for 2 then died in her sleep around 9 pm the night before Easter. It wasn't all together unexpected, although it was more sudden than we thought. It was all business for a few days; making arrangements, putting together picture collages for the visitation, etc. It wasn't until the night after the funeral that it hit me. Gone forever. My dad did a beautiful euology that sent Cathleen and my cousin into tears, but I held my ground. It was still business. Then that night I had a massive panic attack. Gone forever. Once alive and happy on this earth, but now gone forever, for eternity. Only pictures and the memories of those of us left behind are left of this person who lived a very full and happy life. Whose presence on this earth made mine possible, who loved me and her family more than anything. I found out more about my grandmother after her death, going through pictures and the editorial church bulletins she used to write, than I ever knew about her in life. She was a terrific writer and understood and followed my life, the lives of all three of her granddaughters more than I thought. The generational distance did not have to be as large as it was. But I didn't know. I thought they didn't understand. And now I regret that I didn't know my grandmother like I could have.
The week before my grandmother passed, my girlfriend lost her father, her dad, to a heartattack and resulting complications with diabetes. It was horrible. We were updated with good news, then bad new, then good news then bad news the entire week before. And on Sunday the 16th, he finally let go. It was around 1pm when they took him off the ventilator. We got the call about a half hour later. I remember it was 1pm b/c I remember looking at the clock and wondering how he was doing at exactly that time. I didn't know Mr. Olson. I'd met him once at the christening of his grandson. But I know Kate. And my heart breaks for her. Kevin lost his mom almost a year and a half ago and watching Kate go through this was very difficult for him. All I can do is be there with them, to sit with the pain and try not to move to hide it or fade it or fix it. Because there is nothing that can be said, nothing that can be done to fix it, change it or cover it.
All of this, two weeks of death, has made me constantly aware of my life, my actions, my anger at small things, my purpose, what I'm going to leave behind. And I'm trying, desperately trying to live more fully, happier and take nothing for granted. It is hard, though. Life is riddled with tiny, insignificant details that demand attention. Still, going back to work and worrying about making a deadline is silly. Getting angry at the idiot in the car ahead of me is meaningless. Feeling like I will be happy "when" I have more money, a bigger house, nicer clothes is time wasted. Only people matter in this life. Ok, and maybe the family pet. We are too often mired in the details of existence and forget to actually live our lives. We don't take the time to truly know, deeply love. "When" is here.
I asked Kevin one Thursday night if we should open the smoked salmon on Saturday or if he was saving it for something important. I will always remember and always adore him for his response: "What's more important than Saturday?"