Yesterday morning, my grandmother died peacefully in her sleep. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was too soon. There were still goodbyes left to say.
Death is inconvenient. It never happens when you’re ready. I knew that she was going to die soon. My parents called the night before and said that “she was going through the process of dying.” Whatever that means. Maybe a week.
I hadn’t even gotten through processing that phone call, when the second one came. How are you supposed to feel when this happens?
I don’t know.
I don’t know how to feel. Sad, happy, relieved, regretful? It all runs together under the surface, I guess.
My sister pointed out, ironically, that she died 9 years to the day after my dad’s mom died. And they may have been the same age. I haven’t done the math yet.
A Providential coincidence, I guess.
Good by, Mommar. I love you.