Almost

Today we almost lost my Grandma. In two weeks she has lost 13 lbs, just two weeks. She's not eating. She's diabetic. She has liver cancer. And she almost died because she was starving herself. Between my conversations with Mom and her and Grandpa, I've somewhat pieced together what happened today. My uncle Jim, who has been staying withs them for a little while (or at least visiting frequently) either figured out she wasn't eating or knew that she was in trouble, I'm not really sure. The point is that he got her to the hospital and saved her life. Otherwise this entry would be very different, this would be marking her death.

This isn't her first close call and part of me knows that her time with us is limited. Of course as I type this words I know that even that is ridiculous. We are all mortal creatures, dwelling in this corporeal shell for an unknown span. Death aside, the time we have, the time that we know anyone is limited. The only guarantees in life is that things will and must come to an end. So I try to remind myself of these things as a way to cope, as way to mentally prepare myself for what I know must come. Her death. My parents death. The death of a close friend. My own.

At this moment these words, this attempt at clarity of thought for the sake of emotional release only feels vacant, hollow and inconsequential. These words won't change the fact that people I love will die. That Grandma is more likely to die of starvation than the tumor growing in her liver. These words don't even really make feel any better. They just are and they can't be contained. I tried calling Lindsay and after I explain what happened, my words left me. I knew that I needed to say something, to release the gnawing feeling in my gut. But I couldn't.

After I got off the phone, I went upstairs and stared outside while I called Grandma, hugging a pillow like an anxious child. Over and over I kept asking myself what I wanted to do, what I needed to do. And this is all that I could think of.

And now I feel the words leaving me again, and that gnawing feeling as become a knot. And I am without a way to release it.