I've disappeared from this stupid journal because I don't feel so great, and because everything seems like a monumental waste of time while my grandma is being consumed by cancer. Every day this defenseless little old lady is slowly being dragged further away by a monster, and I'm supposed turn my head and pick up a pencil to draw or type my meaningless exploits in this journal or find things to laugh about. I'm supposed to let this happen.
I should understand that her old body is worn and wasn't meant to last forever, and I should be grateful that we've had some warning of her departure instead of just finding her suddenly gone one day. But I don't feel like being grateful or understanding. Nope. Some days I feel resigned, and other days I feel like yanking her out of her chair and driving her toward some crazy miracle scheme---maybe even having Superman fly her around the world to turn back time a few years...
But Grandma's been able to go on as she lost people over the years, and she will expect that we can all continue as she has. We're also trying to keep a sense of humor, which she certainly hasn't lost. A doctor gave her some grim news the other day, and when he left the room she put her feet and the air and said, "Well, as soon as I'm gone someone can certainly have these shoes," because apparently they squeak to high hell as she walks.
Years ago my Grandma told my mom that she had made her own funeral arrangements, so no one would really have to worry about that. My mom recently asked her about these plans, but Grandma tells her, "I know I SAID that I arranged all that, but I didn't really. And NOW I don't really want to." But it does have to be discussed. And as we sat around the table trying to make light of it, each of us describing whether we want a plain wooden box or cremation, Grandma said, "You know, I would like it if someone just froze me, took me out to the countryside and drove my body into the ground." What?? Drill you straight into the ground like a stake? Oh, Grandma...
My grandma is a nut, a fibber, a biscuit-baker, a pianist, a good sport, an astronaut, a Monopoly-player, and an angel. There will never be anyone else like her again. Then again, with her many many kids, grandkids and great-grandkids, perhaps she will still be everywhere.
And she would expect that I get busy again, and I will.