One year ago tonight, I was driving home with my cousin and we were talking about how the next few days were going to play out. We knew things weren’t good. I was the only one who read that “What to Expect” folder that the hospice people left, but I’m pretty sure everybody knew it was probably only going to be a few days at most.
He said how horrible it was, and how it sucked that we knew it would get worse when he actually died. We talked about how we knew we would all get through it though. That night, I stood in the living room and remembered being there the morning that Grandma died. I remembered feeling so horrible and thinking that we would never get through that. But we did. We got through it. I knew that whatever happened with Grandpa, we would get through that too. That was comforting.
Tonight, I’m not sure how I feel. I think I was right. We’ve all gotten through the last year. And despite whatever paint fumes-induced raging I may have spewed all over the internet (or how much I may occasionally still feel like that), we got through a year without Grandpa relatively intact.
But it still sucks. I don’t know how tomorrow is going to be. I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty horrible, because this whole damn
year week has been horrible. I’m guessing I’m going to wake up, have a drink, and go back to bed.
(My mom: Yeah, because Grandpa would want us to deal with it by being sloshed.
Me: Um. Yeah. It worked last year! My Lord, my Sunday morning I was so sick I was like, “Yeah, thanks, we loved him too…I need to go sit down now…” And I do think that that is exactly how Mr. I-Used-My-Engineering-Background-To-Make-Beer-Better would want us to deal with it.)
So we’ve made it. But maybe I’ll have to get back to you about the condition we’ve made it in next year.