My darling, darling paternal Grandma has suffered (??) at the hands of alzheimers for years and years and years and years. YEARS. She's 94 (96?) now. I haven't seen her in many, many years, and she wouldn't have recognized me for many, many years. She didn't freak out when my grampa slipped away in his sleep years ago, because already so much of her mind was gone.
We've been waiting. I've been hoping...hoping that when she sleeps, she gets out of her body where she is whole again.
She is finally, blessfully, wonderfully free. She flew away. She who had so much dignity and was so proper while she had her wits about her, she who sunk into a mindlessness that didn't let her control anything about herself or her body, she who disappeared into completely unknowingness, has flown and is free and full and whole and wonderful and beautiful again. I couldn't be happier for her.
My dad doesn't know yet.
That part makes me cry. No matter what, no matter how good it is for her to be free, it's his Momma.
And I can't stop crying for my aunt and cousins who have cared for her all these years. The relief must be as immense as the sense of loss. I wish I could do something to make it all better.
I hope I feel better after my daddy knows. :(
Be free, Grandma. I KNEW I smelled you earlier. Love you forever.
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