Saying good-bye

This morning I went to the hospital to say good-bye to my grandmother. It's the kind of thing that you know you need to do, are happy that you did it, but it's hard to go.

My Mom and her brothers and sisters were all there. They've been taking turns staying the night. They've been crying, laughing and reminiscing. It's heartwarming to see them. (and I recognized how sad I am that Lucian quite possibly won't have a brother or sister, but that's a topic for another day.)

Lucian, my Dad, and I went in to see my grandma. I don't have a babysitter, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to bring Lucian in, but there wasn't a problem.

GM looked like a ghost of her former self. She recognized us, but couldn't maintain alertness. I kissed her on the cheek and prayed that she finds her way home.

There is a certain surrealness when death is imminent. I can't explain the transition, except to say that she is neither dead nor alive. There's been talk of the funeral, with GM still breathing in the next room. But how can you not plan for something that is mere hours ahead of you?

It was almost how I felt during the final days of my pregnancy. My baby wasn't here, nor not here. Floating in between both universes. Except of course, that bringing someone into the world is a happy time, and when they leave, it's not.