October 15

Nana passed this morning.

There's a letter in the mailbox, waiting to be sent to her. I wrote it before I got the phone call. Put a stamp on it and put it in the box before I got the news.

I wrote it, knowing that she might never get it or hear it read aloud in the same room as she was.

I'm going to allow it to be mailed.

Since we've been grieving for Nana the last few years anyways, this is almost a relief.
Almost.

I'm glad that she's back with Pop-pop. I'm glad that she's no longer in any pain, that she has all her memories back, that she gets to see her mother and father and brothers again.

... Christmas hasn't been the same since Grandma Darlene died. It changed a lot of the dynamics of our family traditions. It's been twelve years and I still don't feel the same about Christmas as I did. I still love Christmas, but there's this bittersweet element that was never there before.

Christmas changed even more after Pop-pop passed and Nana sold their house. Then my aunt and uncle took Nana in. Nothing was worse ... just more different.

...
...

My dad, when he called (after I'd received the news from Aunt I ... and called Michael and my mom to let them know), mentioned that it was the 15th. Pop-pop passed August 15 ... so maybe they had a thing for the number 15 (it's not their anniversary, in case you wondered).

No viewing. No funeral. There will be a family get-together later this summer.

I should send down flowers to Dad and L ... as well as Uncle Mike and I ... and Uncle Steve. That would be kind. Not that it accomplishes much ... but it's something. Maybe something with Amaryllis flowers. Those always remind me of Nana for whatever reason.

I think I had more than an inkling that it'd be soon -- her passing. I woke up this morning with "Each Life That Touches Ours for Good" in my head. I got the kids off to school, letting them know that Aunt I and I had talked last night (and that Nana was still alive, still unresponsive, but not in any pain) ... wrote the letter, cried, put it in the mailbox, took a shower, put on CuddlDuds (in black, how fitting), since I felt that I could use something comforting ... and nothing like cozy thermals, right? (Unless you have flannel sheets and an electric blanket or mattress pad). I read some blog posts ... and got the call.

Michael asked if I wanted him to come home early. I told him that I'd be okay.
I would rather cry without witnesses. 

I am aware that this is not a bad thing. Death is a natural part of living.
You'd think, with how morbid I tend to be, that this would be easy to deal with.
I find the concept of death fascinating. I could study the mourning rituals of different ages and cultures for weeks.
... I just find it harrowing to endure it first-person. Though, I do understand some aspects of, say, Victorian mourning. Covering the mirrors --- you don't have to see your tear-streaked and mottled-blotchy face. Not a bad idea.

I'll be okay.
I already have my calendar marked for when I can start her temple work.
Knowing that I can do that for her ... and get her and Pop-pop sealed? That helps.
Knowing that she's back to herself again, even if I can't be with her or hug her to hear her voice over the phone ... it's still hard. But endurable.

This separation isn't for forever.
In fact, it WON'T be.

It still sucks and I hate it. But it is temporary.
I will get her back. And Pop-pop. And Grandma Darlene. And all my other people who've gone where I can't follow yet.

I should go take some Tylenol, though. Crying gives me a headache.
I think I'm going to curl up with something sweet and brainless to watch.

I won't rail against God. Because I know that this is a merciful thing.
She didn't suffer. She was with people who loved her. She was loved by so many.
She's back with her family. She's back with Pop-pop.
She can watch over us all ... and regale us with all the gossip when we meet up again.
And it will be good. Something to look forward to.