Yesterday night I got home and saw the plushie I gave my grandma as well as the flower on the dining room table. And right then I knew. I asked if grandma was okay, and then my sister and I were told that she passed away earlier that day.
My mother held her hand as she died. She kept holding it even after she died. My aunt and uncle were there as well; thing is, my aunt just “couldn’t” make it to the hospital as my grandmother lay there dying until after my uncle got home from his fishing trip.
A very kind nurse even called my aunt and left her a message, my aunt didn’t even bother to call back.
An old friend of my grandmother walked in to visit while my grandma was on her deathbed. She couldn’t ask “how are the girls” or “how have you been” to my mother. No. She decides to say “you know you and your sister really need to get things straight. You need to work things out”
ALL. WHILE. MY GRANDMA. IS LAYING. On HER DEATHBED.
Like, what the heck dude. My mom is holding her hand as my grandma keeps making herself wake up because she was scared of dying.
That’s what hurts the most. She was scared to die. She was trying to fight dying.
My aunt did literally NOTHING. Nothing. Everything is on my mom and my gosh she is my hero and she is a freaking warrior because she just does it. She tried to put it in my aunts hands but for gosh sakes my aunt just does not care.
All my uncle could say to my mom was “there there it’ll be ok” like are you freaking serious??? This woman dying should mean just as much to you as she does to my mother. We are all related. We have all had so many Christmas’ and holidays together. Barbecues, parties, graduations, birthdays.
And all they did, my aunt, uncle, that old friend of hers… all they did was sit in the freaking hallways and talk about who was getting my grandmas stuff.
My cousin, and her friends, gosh it makes me so mad and so sick.
As far as we are all concerned, my mom dad sister and I, they are not family anymore. I never want to see them. Never want to talk to them anymore. I don’t wish bad on them. But they are nothing to me anymore.
The hard part is my grandmother chose the worst way to go out. She made things so much worse than they needed to be, and painful. We couldn’t forget her to go to hospice where she could pass comfortably.
At least in my heart, and my parents and sisters hearts, we know we did right. We did the right thing. That’s all.