Last night, around 10:30pm, my husband's grandmother passed away. She had been in the hospital on 100% oxygen for about two weeks. We are grateful that she is no longer in any pain, but still sad that she is gone.
These past two weeks of watching (or rather hearing) of her suffer have filled me with many mixed emotions. For one, she is not my grandmother, so my grief is removed. Additionally, I have just lost my son - which I believe makes me a bit less reactive to death. Lastly, (and I feel bad about this) she is in her 80's and I believe this is the way it is suppose to be!
I feel horrible about feeling this way. I loved his grandmother too. She was a wonderful and kind lady. I'm actually kind of jealous now that she is in Heaven rocking my baby Cooper. You see, she had told me she was excited to do this. It does bring a smile to my face now.
Another odd thing that this sad day has brought about is my yearning for people to acknowledge Cooper again. Weird that I should feel that way today. It's just that people do not hide from the death of a grandmother or a grandfather. Even deaths of parents and aunts and uncles are definitely acknowledged. But it's different with a child...especially a child that only the mother really "knew". By not acknowledging my loss, people might as well be saying to me that Cooper never even existed. Somedays that hurts even more than the actual loss. Somedays. Why are people so afraid of Cooper...and of me? Is it because we (and all those who have experienced this type of loss) remind them of their own mortality? Of how fragile life really is? Of all the things they haven't done yet? said yet??
Oh goodness, I've opened this can of worms back up. I thought I was already through this part. I think that's far enough for today. I guess it goes to show that grief is truly not a straight line.
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