Blessed

My grandmother, Dodie, passed away in her sleep early this morning in her bed in Muncie, about the time that I was getting up to go to work in Cleveland. She was 96 and sharp as a tack on most days and not much duller on the rest. We're doing okay. It's hard to believe, and it took us by surprise. We were ready a couple of weeks ago when she went to the hospital, but she bounced back and was back to her normal self rather quickly. I think it's really hard on my parents and my dad's brothers and sister, especially.

I grew up with my grandma. She moved into our house when I was 8, after her husband died and she no longer desired to keep up the farmhouse where she was living by herself. We used to celebrate the anniversary of her move-in, every year with Fazoli's for their garlic-soaked breadsticks ... those really aren't fair to anyone in the world ... breath or bowels ... but they're so good.

The strangest thing for me right now is that life is continuing on as normal. I took a nap today after I found out, I finished the book I had been reading, I went for a run, I made dinner. I've cried a few times; I've chosen to do things in a different order on account of how I feel ... but mostly I feel numb. And sad. And weird. And normal. Which feels abnormal.

My mom told me I didn't need to come home, which is better for me because I have a busy week ... but I should've known she was lying ... because I'm pretty sure she is. I'm pretty sure I needed to call work, find someone to work for me tomorrow and drive home so I could be there tonight and at least tomorrow morning before coming back to go to Erie. I think this was a character defining time for me, and I blew it a little bit. I'm still thinking about finding someone to work for me Friday, so I can at least be home Thursday night and Friday morning before returning to Erie Friday night. But I think I've already missed a really important time.

Erie's playing Brahms' Ein Deutsches Requiem this week. Which is completely appropriate, but I don't know how I'm going to make it through. I'm about to try to do some score study and I'm almost fallen apart. Lord, give me strength.

The first words of the Requiem are "Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted." from Matthew 5:4
and the last words are "...Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their words do follow them." from Revelation 14:13

I don't think I will ever forget this concert.

What Sarah Said

My grandmother. Is 95. Her name is Dorothy and she's the mother of my father. She is a little bit of a hellraiser of a woman, or used to be in her day. Now she is 95 and only recently is every bit as old as that sounds. A few years back she had a major stroke which slowed her down significantly, but before that she would gallivant all around this country and WORLD even with her various grandchildren, loving people and loving life. My grandfather Harold returned Home about 18 years ago now. But he has never left my grandmother. And even though she lost a big part of herself then, she has stilled lived life just as much as anyone ever has. But now her body has finally caught up with her age. She is in an assisted living facility. It's marvelous there, really. But still. It's not quite the same. It's like a nursery, or a zoo, or an acquarium. Full of old people. Many of whom still have the spirit to live, but the bodies can't keep up. I don't go see my grandmother very often anymore. I can't stand to see her deteriorate the way she has. I know it's even worse for her, since it's HER body that won't keep up. Her mind is still pretty sharp, but all of her senses are letting her down, so she seems crazy, but it's just because she's not getting all the input that the rest of us get. Her responses and comments make perfect sense based on the information she's receiving.
I love my grandma dearly and I always WANT to go spend time with her, but then I think of how difficult it is for her to hear and speak and see and move. I get exhausted just worrying about it. I know how long it takes to have a conversation with her. But I know that I should go. I know she'd love to see me ... heck, she watched me grow, literally. She's lived in my parent's house since my grandpa died. But I just can't make myself go out there and see her. And smell the building, and see the old people that I can't do anything to help.
There's a Death Cab for Cutie song called "What Sarah Said." In it there's a line that says "love is watching someone die." And I know that's true and I want to have that kind of love for my grandmother, but it's so hard. So hard to make myself leave my comfortable world and go out there just to spend time with her.