Grieving for the Living
I haven’t posted as much as usual lately. For the past six weeks or so, I’ve been feeling lethargic, unmotivated and just plain sad. My 95-year-old Nana is dying.
Now of course, there’s the logical part of me that says, “She’s 95! She’s had a great run. You’re so lucky to have had her around for so long, and she’s so fortunate to see her four grandchildren into adulthood, and the birth of five great-grandchildren! How many kids The Assistant’s age have had the chance to know their great-grandparents?”
And of course, all of that is true. But then there’s the other part, the part that misses her already. They’ve disconnected her phone because she’s no longer able to answer it. Calling and getting the “this number is no longer in service” message was such a shock for me. I’ve called her twice a week for years. I’ve sent her weekly Red Stamp photo postcards of The Assistant’s exploits. And now, even though she’s still there, my connection to her has been broken. And I’m crushed.
She’s receiving palliative care now, something that I’ve long believed to be important. I’m eternally grateful to her caregivers for helping to make her final weeks as comfortable and dignified as possible, but there’s no mistaking that her time is limited.
She may not be gone, but I miss her already.