Grief

Grief comes like throw up sometimes. Your thoughts start to bottleneck like cars on a freeway and all it takes is one unusual thing to focus on.

My grandmother has recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She’s actually been taking the news really well but it’s sending the rest of the family through a loop. We’re all in a slight-panic mode running trying to do something helpful or trying to look like we’re doing something helpful.

But my Grandma keeps saying that the only thing she wants is to go peacefully in her sleep.

My Dad called to tell me while I was at the park and I took the news really hard so I thought I’d drive myself straight home before I started to lose it. I always think I’ll take things like this better than I do.

Grandma was laughing in the background as my Dad was talking. He said, “She says she’ll take Obama care.”

I assumed that was probably a resignation toward the end since our family has always assumed that acceptance of democratic, political measures is tantamount to death and destruction in the slowest, most illogical ways known to man.

I spent last weekend with her and she is adamant that she can’t go fast enough. But I know the rest of us are not at all ready to see her go.

I’m having trouble spelling out to her how much I love her.