Guilt

Six years...more six and a half really. I was the one who decided we shouldn't go see him, that the blizzard was too bad, that we'd be risking our lives. Then by morning, the pneumonia had taken him from his nursing home bed, despite the best efforts of the staff.

You see...in my eyes...I was a wretched grandchild. I can remember him taking me to see a giant traveling aquarium when I was six...and I threw such a fit about wanting to go watch cartoons. I can still recall how awesome the huge fish in there seemed, so much larger than they would now, by virtue of my age and physical stature.

I...when he had his stroke, it was right before we were supposed to go to Las Vegas. At first I was angry, it didn't occur to me that "he had fallen" really meant a stroke...and by the time the first few hours in the waiting room were over, I wanted to go off in a corner and cry for being so selfish. They gave him hours to live...it took years for him to die.

I remember not allowing myself the luxury of sleep, just waiting for him to pass on...praying to God to allow him to pass on, realizing at long last, that some things were worse than the death I had so feared. Yet then came rehab...and sometime during the rehab, he had been showing signs of improvement, it was like he just gave up...and we tried to care for him at home. Eventually we had to send him to the nursing home, and for those years...I came, every day after school with mom.

I did my best to ignore him, do homework, watch his TV...anything so that I didn't have to gaze upon the strongest man I'd ever known as a human being just lying there...unable to do anything himself.

I've always been the favorite grandchild...because I care. I may not always show it, but I do...and I can't apologize to him now, for all I did wrong. For all the lack of compassion I showed in the nursing home years...I know sitting with him was a sort of compassion, but I wanted nothing more than to flee.

I should have been there when he passed on, but I was so blinded by my own fear of death, that I didn't want to go out in that blizzard. I thought I buried these damn emotions of guilt, but I guess not...

I want to be there when grandma passes on...I feel as though I owe it to her. Who knows when that will be though...and for one reason, I hope I am not there when she passes on. If I am there at her deathbed then she will be suffering, and I don't want that. When it is her time, I hope she can go peacefully, as I too hope to go when it is my time.