A Sister's Grief

We're all moving on - sad, yes, but moving on. Getting back into reality. Everyone except my older sister - of course. After Nana died two weeks ago, she moved in with my Granddad. She doesn't want him to be alone, but she wants to be near the memory of Nana as well. She hasn't been sleeping well, she reads in a book that someone has a stroke and she bursts into tears. It's so hard for her to go on. 

She moved back tonight, and keeps talking about all these sad things, "I've got a picture of Nana all for myself," "oh Aunt Betty is devastated because she's the only one left now." We stopped speaking about how sad we were after the funeral. It was time to get back into life, and yes, we talk about it, but we don't go on and on. That's not how my family works. Because she was so busy grieving, my sister confused her exam timetable. She thought an exam that was actually yesterday, was tomorrow. Even in a state of grief I don't know how she managed to confuse Thursday with Saturday.

I know we all grieve in our own way, but I really wish she'd just get on with it like the rest of us.

Sex and the City

Sex and the City  is a fantastic movie. I've seen it twice now. The clothes, the shoes (!) and the characters are just as good as the TV series - of which I've seen the last season and parts of seasons 4 & 5. 

However, while I was watching the movie, my nana was in hospital fighting for her life. I don't know if I can see it again anytime soon, because now Sex and the City will be known (to me) as The Movie I watched Before My Nana Died.

Good News and Bad

It's been an incredible weekend, let me tell you. 

It was Friday 13th, and that was when Mum got her results back. Unlucky 13 no more! Her results were clear. Turns out the change in her mammogram was just that - a change. Mum said it was because she was getting old, and I replied, "thank God!"

Then Saturday night was the worst day of my life. At about 4.30, her mum (Nana to me) was out in her garden when she suffered from a progressive stroke. She managed to tell Granddad off for getting her a pillow from inside, and got him to take her gardening gloves off before they put in her in the ambulance. However, things got worse and when I got to the hospital with my older sister (we'd been watching Sex and the City at the movies), she was unconscious.

At about 2.10am, my parents, my sister, my cousin, my grandfather and I had to say goodbye to Nana. Her breathing throughout the night had become more slow, and eventually she didn't breathe again. Seeing my grandfather kiss her goodbye was the most harrowing experience of my life. None of us had expected this; Nana was as healthy as a horse and her mother had lived to 94. It seems as though he life was cut short at just 76.

Seeing my granddad and mum so distraught is what is destroying me. My grandparents were married for 54 years, and now his other half is gone. Not only that, but the light from his eyes is gone. I hope it can return.

It's been an intense week for me. Nothing bad has ever really happened to me, but when the shit hits the fan, it isn't distributed evenly. 

The C Word

My mum's having a radioscopy on Thursday. I guess after that we'll know if it's the C word or not. I know it's stupid, but I don't want to say the word. 

I've been doing things at home, thinking to myself, "if I do this for five more minutes, she won't have cancer." I know things like that don't make a difference, but at the moment I feel it's the only way I can help.

I'm so scared. I'd give anything for this just to be a scare.

Mum

Mum said there'd been a change in her mammogram. 

Please don't let it be serious.

I can't live without my mum.

Surprises

I was at work when he turned up. I wasn't suspecting it. I wasn't ready, wasn't prepared. I was excited, sure, but when he asked me if I was busy I suddenly began brainstorming excuses.

"I think I'm going out to dinner with my family sometime this weekend," I said (for the record, that was not a lie). He said to find out what else I was up to and we could hang round on the day I was free.

But I didn't want to.

When he left, I wracked my brain for excuses. I went out back and asked my co-worker for advice. "Pretend you've got food poisoning from what you had at lunch," "pretend I had a drug overdose and you want to stay with me at hospital."

I eventually came up with, "I'm going to dinner at my grandparents house and my parents won't let me get out of it." He accepted that, but then asked what I was doing during the day. Shit. I needed another excuse.

"I'm working on my English assignment," I quickly texted back (once again, not a lie). He asked if I could take the morning off. I said,

"If I do that, I'll never get started. I'm sorry. I'll have to see you next time you come up."

"Why can't you just take the morning off? School isn't everything."

The more someone tries to make me do something, the less I want to do it.

"I can't. The courses I want to get into next year have limited places. I have to do well this year. I didn't know you were coming up. If I had known, I would've rearranged my weekend and taken some time off. It's not my fault. School's my top priority."

Why did I not want to see him? I was scared he'd expect a repeat of last time. One which I wasn't willing to give, because I had long since realised that I don't like him in that way. I don't get why he wanted to hang out with me so badly. Before we left for the army, we were hardly friends.

I don't like surprises.