This is a really tough post. In fact, I’ve tried to write it 3 different times now.
My Gramma Huneycutt is dying.
Yes, I know we’re all dying, but she’s dying soon. Sooner than expected and kind of out of the blue. It’s been 13 days since we got the news from the doctors. She has pancreatic cancer and it’s also spread to around 75% of her liver. I won’t go in to all the details but basically this means that there’s nothing that can be done to reverse it or treat it and she doesn’t have much time left on this earth with us. It is absolutely breaking my heart.
I thought my grandma was supposed to live forever, why isn’t that true? She’s always looked and acted younger than she was. She’s always been beautiful and vibrant and sarcastic and loving and artistic and very talented. But mostly loving. I can’t think of many games they she and my grandpa did not attend growing up — and I played A LOT of sports. Year round. From the time I was in elementary school and even now. They never missed a game. Or a ceremony. Or a dinner. Or a birthday. Or a graduation. Or anything really. They have always been there for it, whatever it was. They love me (and all of their kids and grandkids) the way that every person wishes and hopes to be loved. She and my grandpa have the kind of love I’ve always wanted to have. You can see it. After all of these years you can tell by looking at them that they are so in love. They still hold hands. And wear matching shirts. And finish each other sentences. And interrupt each other unapologetically. And make sure the other is eating properly, or taking their vitamins. They are the cute older couple with the true ancient love that we all strive to attain. And I mean that. And so I’m not ready to say goodbye to her.
I know that death is inevitable. No one can escape it and none of us know when it will be knocking at our door. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I’ve experienced loss and mourning before — multiple friends and acquaintances, my Aunt Beverly, my best friend’s Dad, the list could go on — but none as close as my grandmother. I’ve been lucky enough to come from a pretty long line of heathy people that live a very long life — I even knew some of my great-grandparents before they passed. All four of my grandparents are still alive and well. I’m lucky, indeed. And so this will be a new, more painful sense of loss for me and it really scares me.
I went to visit her 3 times this weekend. She’s definitely much more frail than ever before but her spirit is still there. Actually, she’s more at peace with this whole thing than I could ever imagine myself being with my own impending death. My grandmother is a Christian and she is certain that she’s made peace with God and with this earth and she knows where she’s headed. It’s the rest of us that are not at peace with her leaving us. I selfishly want her to accomplish the medically impossible and to get better and stay here with us because I need my grandma. I need all of my grandparents. I’m not ready to accept the fact that she will be leaving me. I still haven’t accepted it and don’t know when I will.