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Terrible Happiness
Apr. 27th, 2007 02:13 amMy grandfather's back home now. We're all, basically, on Death Watch. He's home; home to die. I hope he knows he's home, anyway.
He is now beyond being able to communicate. I remember this part all too well from when my dear sweet Grandma was at death's door. It's the most frustrating thing. You sense that they want something but have no way to determine what and give it to them.
Not only that, but it seems like my grandfather is thinking on an infant level. Maybe not; in a way, though, that would be preferable. I hate the thought of him knowing full well the extent of the damage to his verbal and motor skills. But the oxygen deprivation from last Thursday's terrible ordeal virtually guarantees that he's brain damaged.
It's horrifying, and heart-shattering, and there's not a god damned thing that anybody can do.
The poor guy has been through so much. To think that he's laying there with his ribs all broken, just fading out, piece by piece... I'm completely heartbroken.
Sometimes, when he's awake, he'll just stare and stare at you. No words. No words. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know if he knows who I am. My bud, my lifelong best friend, my teacher and mentor... is he in there somewhere?
So I'm trying to get on FMLA so I don't lose my job. After giving them 50 hours of every week of my time, I have earned a whopping $0.30 raise, which I do need, since Dayton-area employers seem to think it's completely fair to pay a person with over 10 years of call center experience $9 an hour. Unfortunately, I have to prove that he was my legal guardian.
Much easier said than done.
So I've been digging through countless drawers and boxes of memories. Ever have a moment of terrible happiness? That's seeing a picture of my grandparents, young and sweet and smiling, knowing that one is gone forever, and the other is leaving soon.
My grandparents raised me, so this has been exactly like losing parents to me.
But I cannot prove it.
I think that I am going to lose my job very soon.
What could be worse than that?
I know that I am going to lose my grandpa very soon.
He is now beyond being able to communicate. I remember this part all too well from when my dear sweet Grandma was at death's door. It's the most frustrating thing. You sense that they want something but have no way to determine what and give it to them.
Not only that, but it seems like my grandfather is thinking on an infant level. Maybe not; in a way, though, that would be preferable. I hate the thought of him knowing full well the extent of the damage to his verbal and motor skills. But the oxygen deprivation from last Thursday's terrible ordeal virtually guarantees that he's brain damaged.
It's horrifying, and heart-shattering, and there's not a god damned thing that anybody can do.
The poor guy has been through so much. To think that he's laying there with his ribs all broken, just fading out, piece by piece... I'm completely heartbroken.
Sometimes, when he's awake, he'll just stare and stare at you. No words. No words. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know if he knows who I am. My bud, my lifelong best friend, my teacher and mentor... is he in there somewhere?
So I'm trying to get on FMLA so I don't lose my job. After giving them 50 hours of every week of my time, I have earned a whopping $0.30 raise, which I do need, since Dayton-area employers seem to think it's completely fair to pay a person with over 10 years of call center experience $9 an hour. Unfortunately, I have to prove that he was my legal guardian.
Much easier said than done.
So I've been digging through countless drawers and boxes of memories. Ever have a moment of terrible happiness? That's seeing a picture of my grandparents, young and sweet and smiling, knowing that one is gone forever, and the other is leaving soon.
My grandparents raised me, so this has been exactly like losing parents to me.
But I cannot prove it.
I think that I am going to lose my job very soon.
What could be worse than that?
I know that I am going to lose my grandpa very soon.
