The Realm of the Pachyderm

I received a call from my mom at 8:12 this morning. Between three and four o'clock this morning, my grandma Lorraine died.

It's not as if we didn't expect this. After all, she was 90 years old and had been in declining health for about a decade. We were all pretty amazed she'd made it this long. Her death was a release from the great deal of pain she'd been in since she fell and broke her hip two months ago.

But, that doesn't make it any less sad, you know? I know that she's much happier now than she was living in a painkiller haze and that she's now in the care of Heavenly Father. I know about families being sealed for eternity, but that doesn't take the sadness out of the immediate moment of living. I'll see her again, but she's gone now.

As hard as it is to admit it, the thing I'm most remorseful about is exactly what my mom said I'd be sad about when this happened: wasted opportunities. I went to go see her in the assisted living center, but rarely with a good attitude. I would go once a week, but I could have gone much more. I would stay for 45 minutes, an hour, but I could have stayed two or three. I would talk about myself, but I could have asked so many more questions about her.

Hindsight being 20/20 never quite makes you feel as bad as it does when death is involved.

I know I can't beat myself up. I have to acknowledge the opportunities I did take to spend time with her, to get to know her before she passed away. I won't be languishing over this for long, but in the immediate aftermath, it's just an upsetting reality to come to terms with.

If blogging seemed like an absolutely inappropriate response to the death of a loved one, then I apologize for any ruffled sensibilities that resulted from reading this post. I have a hard time getting my feelings out in spoken words, so I need this written medium to express myself.

Have a nice day, all.