The Grandparent

As I'm sure some of you noticed I posted chapter four of "All of Her." I am slowly working on chapter five... Its a process.

I put in my two weeks at Kohl's (finally!) and my last day is November 20th. I am hoping to hear from Barnes and Noble, as the one in my area is hiring. The hiring manager implied that I'd be getting a call, however that is no guarantee. Its not like I can't find another job right now, as it is holiday season.

In the mean time I will continue working at Sam's Club doing food/product demonstrations. Its a living.

The only other thing that is bothering me right now is My Grandmother.

As many of you remember, a little over two years ago my Grandfather passed away (this was before my car accident). This was incredibly upsetting to me, as I had a rather close relationship with my grandpa (whom I miss greatly).

For several years now my Grandmother (my mom's mom, my grandfather's wife) has been suffering from Alzheimer's disease. Since Grandpa's death she has gone very far down hill. And, it seems, that she will not be among the living much longer. She has been refusing food and drink for several days now. And her desire was to not be kept alive.

On the one hand she has been pretty much dead to me for the past couple of years. Its easier than you think to let go of someone who is almost a total stranger, especially when they can no longer remember who you are. Okay, that isn't entirely true. She thinks I'm my mother. And that my mother is my mother. Which is very confusing for us all.

On the other hand this nearing of the grim reaper just makes me sad that I have never had a good relationship with her. And I wish I had. I wish that she and I had gotten along. But, unfortunately for me, most of my memories of her are abusive comments and abusive actions. I remember a few times where she liked me. But most of the time there were hateful comments about my weight, my choices in relationships (threats of disownment were not uncommon in my family) and my hair (usually that it needed cut, because she hated long hair).

In my own mind, my last grandparent died when Grandpa passed. Unfair to my grandmother, but in my own mind it seemed fair. And now I feel guilty. Maybe if I had tried harder to please her? Maybe if I had done everything she demanded I do and had lost the weight and cut my hair and given up on ever marrying a cute african-american man (which I obviously did, but beside the point) she would've loved me.

My mother says that she did love me. When I was an infant. Before the onset of free will and personality.

To be fair, she likes me well enough now. But that's because she doesn't know who I am. And that isn't a relationship. Its a lie.

I hate visiting her. I can't stand to see her like that. I can't stand to be in the nursing home. I can't stand seeing my, often times, worst enemy in a debilitated state like that. It is so strange to see someone you've been terrified of like that. Its strangely terrifying in its own way. And when I see her, its like I'm in a dream.

Should I have gone to the nursing home this last Sunday? Even though I felt like crap and it was my only day off? Should I have gone? Should I go before she is gone forever? I don't know. I'm confused and I'm torn. Part of me is so numb to the whole thing that I don't care. But there have been so many I didn't get to say goodbye to. Should I let this one go by me, without so much as a pause? Should I say goodbye?

It may be too late now. Will I regret this moment next year? Or the year after that? Will I regret it at the funeral? Am I a terrible grandchild? Am I an awful person for feeling so numb and so disillusioned?