Still in the Air

People deal with death differently.

It’s not that I am trying to forget; I’m just tired of everyone being sad. I think it has been four weeks already, and the side affects of my great grandmother’s passing are still here.

My grandmother is on a cleaning frenzy, and I’m getting tired of smelling the bleach. She’s keeping herself busy. I learned in Psychology, though, that not talking about things can make it worse. It’s okay to cry; it’s okay to cry things out and talk about the things that hurt. But instead, she is doing busy work – cleaning, going places, etc. I’m afraid that she is going to break down one day and go crazy or something; it’s scary.

I haven’t really talked to my dad’s side of the family since it happened; I don’t feel like talking about it. There’s nothing much I can say. The week she died I didn’t talk on the phone, and I barely text messaged anyone – I think I only text messaged maybe two people at the most that week. I didn’t cry at the viewing; I had seen her slowly fading away when she had come back to the hospital, and started the at-home care. I had seen her – she was skin and bones. She wouldn’t eat. None of us could do anything but pray. She wasn’t hurting anymore. That’s why I didn’t cry. I had cried so much already when she was in the hospital that I couldn’t cry over her anymore. I was just happy that she isn’t in pain.

That’s how I dealt with it.

However, I also deal with it by talking about the funny things she did, and how now I can’t do certain things without thinking about those things.

I walked into the kitchen one morning, and she had the peanut butter and some Saltine crackers out. “I want peanut butter crackers!” she had stated. It was clear, too. ๐Ÿ˜› Anyway, she was making herself some peanut butter crackers, but she wasn’t using a knife. Instead, she was using the end of a spoon and then licking it each time she had finished. So that’s what I think of, each time I go for the peanut butter, see it, or hear about it.

Because of her, I have a different opinion than I did before she moved in with Mimi and I about the elderly: They can’t always help what they do; they’re going to be cranky, and they’re going to have the mind of a child. I think it is because that’s what getting “old” does to a person. Some elders are like that, and some are not. Either way, we should all have patience with them. They can teach us things we never knew that they could, and many of those things are things we can never learn from anyone else.

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Caityโ€™s gravatar

I like to remember the good things too. Remembering good memories about people I’ve lost always makes me feel better.

Shriyaโ€™s gravatar

Remembering good things often makes me cry more than the bad ones.
But everyone has a different way of dealing with pain. I have never really believed in Psychology because I think everyone’s psyche is different, and especially self-help books proclaiming they have the solution to everyone’s problems – I think thats bull.
The pain might be building up in your grandmom, however, and it is important to let it out. But sometimes a person just has to trust the adult to do the adult thing.

I did have fun. I get a tummy ache whenever we practise that scene because I laugh so hard. The thing is that I would get to wear a white wedding gown. Is it cheesy of me to be so excited?