And now a word from our sponsor – reality

The doctor finally mentioned it today; the H word – Hospice. I did not think it would hit me so hard because I have known for a while that she was sick. She has been failing for a long time and in some ways that has made the process harder to understand, as every time she bounces back – and so it is easy to let the mask of denial slip back into place.

It’s gone like this for the last few years: She gets sick, it’s an emergency, we respond and think it will be the end, but instead… there is an emotional rescue, a medical redemption and then a resumption of her (and by extension - my) life. Lather, rinse, and repeat. And so it has gone. With every cycle, she is less and less able, but there is some assumption of normalcy each time.

Lately, we have all tacitly agreed to ignore the visitor that has moved in with us. I don’t know what to call it, but I feel the energy and know it’s here – it is the specter of her death; not in the ghostly apparition sense - but in sense of prospect - of what is to come. The specter of her absence is in the room. It is the prospect of the unpleasantness of her passing and of her absence.

She has been here my whole life. Being, as I have defined it includes the person; grandmother. Of course, it once included the persons; grandparents, and I have been able to make the change, bit by bit, as they have departed. But just a parent with many children doesn’t get the full weight of “empty nest” until all of the children have gone - the full weight and definition of my life sans grandparents has been forestalled until now.

There are few mirrors for this experience. My subgroup is small. I am the oldest child of oldest children. This grandmother was only 40 when I was born. She has been with me far longer than most grandparents and perhaps longer than I will live without her. That’s the good news and the bad news, I guess.