It happened. March 7, 2011 Betty Jane Deel, world's greatest grandma died. I knew it was coming, obviously. The last time I had a big cry about it was my last blog about it... ya, I haven't really cried since she died.
She died Monday morning at 8:05. I talked to her Friday and said we could visit the whole day, she said, "No, come later." ... I was hurt by this and atm I wish I wouldn't have listened. She went to the hospital that night I believe around 1am. I tried calling Saturday and she couldn't talk. Sunday we got a call saying to come down because it didn't look good. I knew what was coming, I didn't know how long it would take but I begged Tristan to take the day off and go with me.
I walked in to a good bye room. Everyone that loved her more than life was there, surrounding her, with boxes of tissue at her feet. It was kind of poetic. This made it real. I sat by her for awhile playing with her hair, she always liked that. She was awake about an hour before we got there... they induced her in to a morphine coma to ease the pain until ... well, until she died.
We took the boys to the park. Jason's only 7, he didn't need to sit in a hospital all day and watch my grandma die, though he did know it was coming. He kept asking Tristan and I if we'd been around death. *broken heart*
When we were done with the kids I thought visiting hours were over. I learned later I could've stayed all night if I'd wanted. We left my grandpa's around 11pm I want to say, we went back to our hotel and tried to get some rest.
I couldn't sleep, wondering when it would happen. I always envisioned this moment, my grandma dying. I always wondered how it would play out, if I would stay for weeks, move down to keep my grandpa company, close up and do nothing. I prayed for the first time ever that she wouldn't get better. I prayed for her to die within 24hrs. I let her go.
She's lived 8yrs longer than we thought she would've. She gets sick all the time, in and out of the hospital all the time, getting better than getting worse, me going hysterically crazy... afraid to lose her. But the reality is she can't always keep getting better, I can't ask her to stay forever. She needed to go. She's a fighter and she held on as long as she could've. She got to meet Olivia, which was all she wanted.
I woke up around 7am I gather, dreaming about my grandma all night. I had a feeling I should've just taken Olivia to the hospital. I wished I would've. At 8:15 I got a call from my uncle saying my grandma just passed.
Shock, tears... then a shut down. I jumped out of bed in a hurry to be there for my grandpa, called my mom and brother and headed out the door as quickly as possible.
When I got to my grandpa's I walked in the door and saw my dad, I went to my grandpa and embraced him, wanting him to hold me so I could cry and I did... started to before he told me to stop and straighten myself up, get myself together. That was the end of that.
I've had spurts of tears here and there but no real break down, no real grieving process or mourning. Every time I try to Logan needs to pee or be fed, Olivia wants to be held or eat herself. I've not had five minutes to myself, to clear my head, to allow myself to feel everything I've been feeling.
I'm depressed. I've been avoiding this for a long time. I haven't been depressed, not truly depressed in years. Back then I made the decision it had to stop, I couldn't keep feeling like this and go no where and I keep telling myself that now, perhaps denying myself the chance to grieve in the process. I don't think it's healthy, especially after just having a baby. If anything it'll cause me to turn in to one big train wreck.
Memorial is this Saturday. I'm in charge of everything to do with pictures... I'm not even close to being done. Fail.
Her photo book has arrived in the mail and that's about the only thing complete. *sigh* I'm a skosh overwhelmed. I'll write more when I come down from this, hopefully sooner than later. <3