It has been weeks since my last blog. It feels like a confession to type that.
So much has been happening between the Big Guy turning eight, the movie coming out, Christmas, vacation and more ... but there is a reason that I have not been able to bring myself to write a single thing. Until today, I haven't even been able to log myself in here to even think about posting anything.
My Grama (in Florida) has had two strokes since Thanksgiving, with the second one coming right around the Big Guy's birthday. My mother flew out to Florida before the holidays and has been there ever since. Over the weekend, my dad came over to tell me what deep down I already knew we would be hearing. She was being moved to hospice.
Over the last month I have been though such a range of emotions. Worried, sad, mad because I felt like she was giving up on trying to get better ... and so damn guilty ... because every year I tell myself next year is the year that Al and I will take the boys to Florida for a vacation to stay with her. I thought we had all this time. My Great Grama (my Grama's mom), lived to be 96. I was a senior in high school when she passed. My Grama was a nurse. No, there would be so much more time to make it happen. And how can it be that THIS YEAR ... 2014 ... when Al and I thought we finally had a way to make Florida happen before the end of the year ... that this is happening.
There were days over the boys nearly two week winter vacation I could barely get myself out of bed. OK, I got out of bed ... but a good hour or so later than I should have with them home. I couldn't do much more than just get through the day. It was all I could think about.
Losing my Grandfather just a year ago still feels new somehow. Losing my other Grandfather - my Grama's husband - nearly eight years ago now ... I can't. He never even got to meet the twins. He held on before passing from Cancer just to meet my first baby.
I keep going back to wondering how we didn't have more time ... with any of them.
My grandparents moved to Florida when I was just 7, but we always remained very close. For years after my Grandfather passed I begged my Grama to move back here so I could help take care of her. Even though she didn't need taking care of. I just selfishly wanted her here with us. I wrote her a several page letter a few years back, pleading with her to come back and listing all the reasons why she needed to.
It took her a long time to write me back. She would often say she knew that she owed me a letter, but she wasn't ready to write it yet. Part of me held on to the hope that she would say she was ready to move back ... but deep down I knew it was because she didn't want to have to tell me no.
She has been able to come up from Florida a few times over the years and the boys have loved spending time with her. They haven't seen her in about two years now, but they feel so close to her. She is always sending them little cards and holiday themed packages. She never forgets even the littlest thing when it comes to them. I regret not taking the time to send her more things.
Before both of my Grandfathers passed away, I felt the need to tell them so many things. I called one the night before he passed away from Cancer and was able to get a few things out. I was not able to really tell the other one what I wanted before it was too late. I hope that they both knew how very much they meant to me.
Is it crazy that I can't call my Grama? Like I actually can not pick up the phone and call her. I start feeling sick even thinking about it. I can't catch my breath. I sent her a Christmas present and a few packages of pictures the boys drew her ... but I can't make that call. I don't know what to say. I also know that I have been able to say everything - in that letter - and she was able to say everything to me in mine. And that is pretty awesome because I know most people don't get to have that. I know that she knows how much I love her and I know how much she loves me. It is just breaking my heart to have to let her go because I am not ready. How can I be.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
But then I guess it never is.
It is an awful feeling knowing that you are going to be losing someone and you can't be there and you can't do anything about it. I had to tell the boys. But I couldn't really tell them. They knew she was sick, the Big Guy has been openly worrying about it. All I could do on Sunday morning was sit them down and tell them that she isn't getting any better. That we don't know what will happen but that the doctors at Hospice are doing all they can to take care of her and make her comfortable. And we overnighted some more pictures and handmade birthday cards for her.
This has been the reason for my silence. She has always been one of my biggest cheerleaders and I don't know what I will do without her. I'm not ready to let her go, even though it isn't my decision to make.