Prelude For Time Feelers

Official time, 9:10am. Nine-ten on ten-nineteen.

It's so weird. It doesn't seem real. I talked about it with my mom and sister tonight. We cried a little, laughed a little (some of the things my grandma said have been pretty hilarious), looked at pictures I put together, etc. I asked my mom a million questions (of course, it's ME), including, "do I have to look?" She explained that that was up to me how I wanted to say goodbye, but she wasn't sure if Grandma wanted an open casket or not. *sigh* To quote E-town, "I've never seen a dead body before." I'm not sure I want to. But honestly, I feel like I may have to. I don't know if it will be real to me if I don't look.

I was thinking about her earlier today and I had this weird "sense," not of her presence exactly but of her existence. Like, I felt that nothing had essentially changed. She's still alive, she's just not here anymore. I don't know how to explain it.

I'm not sure what I'm feeling. It's sad and all, but I've never been terribly close to this grandma. Not that I don't care or didn't love her or anything, but you know. Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet. Her house is going to be sold. A great deal of my life was spent in that house. I just had a flash of a memory to me and Britt sitting in the den, me in the big recliner and Britt on the blue "velvet" couch, watching TV, while Mom and Grandma were out in the dining room talking. I admit, to think of never having that experience again made me quite sad. *sigh* Today I've been trying to remember her as she was, her old self. The self that loved to be active and independent and "hang out" with her friends and go out on the town. I realized that she's finally able to be that way again without her body to get in the way. I figure she's up in heaven joining clubs and filling up her calender or whatever the heavenly, eternal equivalent to that is. She's living free and that's what matters to me. I always hated that she had to be alone and so held back in these last years. That's not who she is and now she's back to herself. I'm glad about that.

When Dad went out to see her Sunday, he said she talked about her ambulance ride from hospital to hospice. He opened the window curtain and they talked about the leaves changing; autumn is (was?) her favorite season. Then she mentioned something about how the doctors said there was nothing more they could do for her, and she said to Dad, "isn't it the pits?" I laugh and cry at that simultaneously. It's such a Grandma Maxine thing to say, but yeah... She was still pretty alert and clear mentally though her last days, so she knew what was going on, and that sucks.

She's gone. It hits me in waves. And I think of all the things that I could have done but I didn't do. And all the things I'll never be able to do again and I cry. And then it passes and I'm back to just feeling normal and thinking about normal, every day things.

When Dad went out yesterday she was asleep. He leaned down in her ear and called to her and nudged her shoulder but he couldn't get her to wake up. Before he left, he fixed her water glass with her straw towards her on the table next to her, made sure her chapstick was there and that a tissue was loose in the box so she could get it out easily; those are the things she needs right away when she wakes up. This morning she died.

When he went out to the hospice place today after he got the call, he said she was lying there with one hand on her stomach and her head a little to the side, just like how she sleeps.

I don't want to waste any more of my life. As I think about the way my grandma lived and did things, I want to be that way too, no matter how much I have to fight to get to a more stable place emotionally. I don't want my life to consist of all the things I should have done or need to do. I want my life to be full of the things I've DONE. I don't want fear to stop me. Cuz that's how I lived most of my life. I was watching a home movie today of me going to the zoo with Grandma and Mom and Dad when I was 2 or so. I was fearlessly making my way up steep (relatively; I've always been minuscule *grin*) concrete steps with Grandma Maxine's help. I said to Norah, as I watched myself, "that was before I learned how to be afraid." Anything that is learned can be unlearned. I'm determined to do it. I committed myself to life, and never giving up. There have been plenty of days when I've wanted to just throw in the towel and give up on my dreams and desires because it can be freakin hard. But I've made up my mind not to. I've finally started my photography business in spite of the flood of thoughts that I'm not good enough at it, no one would ever want to book me, I'll screw up someone's pictures, etc. And guess what? None of that has ever happened. I've grown tremendously as an artist and as a person because of it, people book me, I haven't messed anything up. And you know what? Being ballsy feels pretty. freakin. awesome. :D This summer has been the start of a whole new, awesome phase in my life, and from here on out, I'm dedicating this determination/striving for fullness and vibrancy to you, Grandma Maxine. You lived without fear, you did the things you wanted to do and you made your life count.