Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Loss....Warning Trigger Material.

They are turning the machines off tomorrow, and I can not breathe. My heart aches. I wish I could be there to hold her hand. To kiss her cheek one last time. To whisper in her ear.

As it is, I called and they held the phone to her ear and I professed my love, my thankfulness of her being in my life, I told her over and over again how much she means to me. They said she nodded and teared up.

I did not cry to her because I did not want her to hear my fear. My overwhelming sense of loss. I did not want her to know how afraid I am to live the rest of my life without ever hearing her voice again. The way she sings happy birthday off key.  How the palms of her hands are always warm but the tips of her fingers cold as ice. How she dotes on my, now, devastated children.

 Little flashes of thought run through my her purse used to smell like old spearmint gum. How she used to hold her hands over my ears when I had bad ear infections as a child. The sound of her voice when she spoke to me whilst my head rested on her chest. How she would call me sir and my sons ma'am as a joke. How she would tease me on the paper route that my clean hands were filthy and her ink covered hands were clean.  How she cried when she held my first born child. What do I do with these memories now? These bitter sweet memories that taste of tears.

Almost thirty eight years of memories and she was in almost all of them. How am I supposed to go on? What do I do? The weight in my chest is so heavy I have forgotten how to breathe. Every room I walk into is silent. Food has no taste. Sleep is elusive. I feel hollowed out.

I called again when they removed the ventilator.... I told her again how much we all loved her, how she was the best grandma a person could ever ask for, how I loved her bunches and bunches, which was her saying. Then I sang jingle bells to her. It was her favorite song. She always asked me to sing it to her, even in the middle of Summer.  I hope she heard me. She was no longer  responsive.

They turned off her machines today...she no longer breathes. My heart aches so fucking much. I wish I could have been there to hold her hand. To kiss her cheek one last time. To whisper in her ear.

I don't know how I will get through this but I do know that life will never be the same. I am better for having known her. Blessed for having been loved by her. I am utterly devastated. I do not know really what to say. The words escape me.

Goodbye my Grandma, my rock, my best friend. I miss you so much already.  My heart is broken.

Neurotic Nelly


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you TR, it has been devastating and I am just really trying to hold on as best I can.

  2. My father passed away 4 years ago. I know how that void feels, you cry, it does no good, just empty. People try to say the "right things"...and they mean well, but it still hurts. Hugs and forehead kisses sent to you in abundance.

    1. I am so sorry TR. My heart goes out to you.