tired to my soul
Everything in me is just exhausted right now, even my soul.
I guess I have to go back awhile to explain the tired things. I can't remember if I've written about my grandfather, and I don't have the energy to find out. So--a few years ago my grandfather had a bad fall (we think from some medication he was taking that really wasn't necessary) and a brain bleed. Until about six months ago, he lived with my Aunt and Uncle in Virginia because he just couldn't take care of himself. His memory was weird and fractured. The past year he started to decline and my aunt and uncle couldn't take care of him anymore, so he came to live in a nursing home near us. He was on and off. Then a few weeks ago, he had a bad fall and got pneumonia, and he just got more and more ill. Apparently he had "gotten" dementia and the fall just progressed everything. Finally, he had been in the hospital three times in a week-and-a-half; and when they brought him back the last time, they made arrangements for hospice to come in and care for him. I was suspicioned that this was the final illness when Mom said he had pnuemonia and wasn't really eating. Hospice was the clincher. Sunday, the 17th, Mom went to visit him the in the afternoon. I didn't go because I had a theatre meeting at 3. But she came back right before I left and said he was sleeping and she was falling asleep sitting in the room, so she had come home to take a nap. I left for my meeting. When I came home, Mom was gone, the t.v. was off, my sister was frantically washing dishes, and Sara M was playing over the stereo in an immaculate den. I knew something was wrong. My sister has a bit of Monica in her--she cleans when upset. Anyway. After I'd put my stuff up, she came into my room and asked if Mom had called me.
"No. What's up?"
"The nursing home called right after you left and said Grandpa passed away."
It doesn't matter how much you know it's coming. It's like catching a line drive in the gut. It doesn't even make sense at first. But then it does. Then Mom came home after the coroner got to the home and everything. And so then I couldn't stop from crying. So the three girls sat in the den and cried. My brother had retreated already to his room and was silent. My Dad was at work, so Ben had no-one to empathize with. The funeral wasn't until this past Monday becauase of family schedules and stuff, so surviving the week of teaching was difficult. I didn't tell anyone at school until the end of the week so I could make it. My grandfather was/is the most amazing man--a wonderful Christian, kindhearted, diligent, loving, and such a fun-loving person. The wake wasn't so hard, but the funeral was very difficult. Knowing that he is with my grandmother now is beautiful; knowing that he is healthy and mermory-full is a blessing; knowing that I will see him again is hopeful; but missing him now is horrible and painful. The thought that struck me at the funeral was what a stark reminder it is that we are not meant for death--that death/loss is un-natural and gouging. And I am so drained. Seeing family was wonderful, but that too was tiring. I haven't been able to fully recharge myself. The sympathy shown by my kids and other teachers on Tuesday was so wonderful. I am so grateful for their care. But it was weepy-fying. Ah well. Ok. I have to go now--I have kids all over the room for lunch-ish.