Prepare yourself for a loooooong read....

In a way I thought I was over this already. I feel so numb. I miss grandma so much that I can´t even find words to describe it. I still can´t believe she´s gone. It´s been 5 weeks and 1 day, almost 2. This week has been very difficult for me. It feels like I´ve got this huge lump in my throat. I can feel the anxiety on my chest. It is starting to affect H. I´m cranky, I snap at him, other times I don´t talk much. If it was up to me, I´d stay home all day.

I used to visit them a lot, many times a week earlier this year. But then I suddenly stopped, I saw them only once a week. Sometimes twice, I guess that´s a lot too... Not because I didn´t want to go but I guess I was trying to save myself from something that I saw was coming. I saw her getting weaker and weaker everytime I went there. The last few months before she passed away were worse than I ever could have realised. Grandpa didn´t want to upset us every time she had a bad night or day. Grandma went to dialysis every other day, the days between the treatments were usually good. She had enough energy to cook, paint or whatever she was up to at the time. She always had some kind of a project going on. It´s funny how you realize certain things after the person´s death. It´s like you´ve seen them all a long but closed your eyes from seeing what´s really going on around you. Now to think of it, during her last months, she didn´t smile often. Ohh, I remember how many times I lied on the sofa near the fireplace and she would sit in her own chair, drink cold coffee and smoke. We talked a lot. I think that is what I miss the most. It was like seeing a therapist. Heh. Sometimes she drove me nuts with her smart ass comments. She didn´t smile "in the end". She didn´t laugh. It was very difficult for her to walk. She couldn´t sleep in the same bed with grandpa because she couldn´t breath very well so she had to sleep in her armchair. That is where she passed away, too. That was her favourite chair.

I went to my grandparents´ today... Or should I say grandpa´s. I had to pick up my parents. I could still see grandma sitting in her wheelchair at the backterrace - keeping her eye on us as we raked the backyard last spring. She always wanted watch people in action. I know it must have been hard for her to accept that she couldn´t do those things. When we were cleaning the house for the last time before she passed away, I had some kind of a fight with my mom. I don´t even remember what is was about. The day was long, and I was taking a nap at the boys´ room. I wasn´t really sleeping, just pretending... She came to me, touched my ankle and said "OK, there´s no need to argue. Let´s eat." I can still remember what her touch felt like. Now I think I wish I hadn´t had that fight with mom.

When I was younger, they took care of me for years when my parents were at work. That´s why they both became so important to me. I loved staying over night when I was a kid. I could stay there during the week also because they lived near the school. Weekends were the best. I loved those mornings... The radio was on, grandpa drinking his morning coffee in the kitchen and grandma making me breakfast. As I write this, tears are falling down my face. Writing about all this helps. I mean, my so called friends still haven´t called or come over. Talking to someone else than H would do me good. But, I´m not going to call Susanna. I will never forget this.

I talked to grandma about those mornings a little before she passed away. She was making meatballs and wasn´t looking at me...But I saw the look on her face when I told her I loved spending time with them. We were talking about my other grandparents, from my dad´s side. How much different my relationship has been with them... Some people say you have to visit your grandparents because they are old, build the relationship with them while you still can. It will be too late when they´re gone, and you will regret it. In this case - bullshit, if you ask me. They decided not to be in our lives. They never got along with my mom. And they still don´t. - phrankly, because she is too open. They are very conservative. When grandma *mom´s mom* took care of me when I was less than 2 years old, and was called to work earlier, she had to call my dad´s parents because grandpa was still at work. My dad´s father took her to work. And he hadn´t fucking driven more than 4 houses away from the house before he said "I will do this this once, but it won´t become a habit." Okay. Well, he knew grandma had to work and she had me with her. He didn´t even *he was already retired because of his back at the time, at the age of 55* suggest to take me with them. So there grandma went to work with a 2-year-old. My dad´s parents thought that they had already raised their own children, they didn´t have to raise grandchildren. Ohhh, fuck off. When I was in high school, and it rained A LOT, I called dad´s father if he could drop me to school. That happened like three times during those 3 years. Last easter after having the worst stomach flu for ages, I called him if he could drop me to work. My bike was at my parents´ and it would´ve taken me over an hour to walk...and I was still weak. He stopped the car to the red lights, and said those famous words he had said to me every time during high school. "I will do this this once, but it won´t become a habit." For fucks sake! I almost jumped out of the car. If I hadn´t been so weak still, I would have. When grandma died, they didn´t even call. Ohh no no no. They didn´t visit. Nada. Honestly, I didn´t even think they would. Their son, my dad, lost a mother-in-law who was like a mother to him. Their grandchildren lost a grandmother, their daughter-in-law lost a mother. And they never fucking called. I have always known we´re not close,but this was the best. When I saw them at the funeral everything dad´s mom said to me was "what a lovely weather we have..." And dad´s dad said nothing. When I watched them leaving the flowers at grandma´s coffin, I felt absolutely nothing. They were like total strangers to me. I feel sad about that. Eventho we´ve never been close, they don´t really know me, I feel like I´ve lost more than a grandma... I feel sorry for my dad. It´s not his fault his parents are like that. I wish my mom would sometimes understand that too... I visit them on regular basis. Maybe once a month. Never on weekdays, always on Sundays. That is what I´ve been taught. Now I´m scared of going there. Dad´s mom´s been having troubles with her memory and I´m afraid she will ask how many times a week grandma goes to dialysis... Why should I feel guilty about something they´ve caused? They chose not to be in our lives.

Hmm. I´m now reading what I´ve written. I´m sorry for my language. Heh. No, actually I`m not. I´m sorry, and congratulate you, if you´ve made your way this far.