My grandpa just sent all of his heirs, and me, since my mother is dead, his wishes for his death.
My grandma is already gone, and he has been terribly lonely without her. I am much healthier now than I was a few years ago, so I think I have a much better chance of surviving it, but I am just falling to pieces thinking about it.
I am feeling very selfish right now. Grandpa is depressed and tired. He is losing his memory and is not as focused as he used to be. This is normal. It happens. So does grieving. I cant wish this away. I can't run away from this.
This just sets my mind off. If Grandpa dies, that means my Grandpa on my dad's side will die eventually too. This also means the impossible. My Grandma on my dads side will die too. And they are old. It will likely happen in the next 20 years. My aunt who is a surragate mom to me will die.
The only death I don't fear is my Dad's. I know when he dies I will finally be able to love him truely, I will not need to hate him anymore. He will never be able to hurt me again when he dies. I also know that when he dies he will no longer be in pain.
I am healthy enough now to see suicide as a far off thing. When Grandpa dies I am going to have to FEEL the pain, and deal with it. No more turning into a rock. No more trying to be cheerful, as if pushing it aside will accomplish anything. I am going to have to be a grown up and cry. To actually deal with it and cope.
I hate the fact that I am bawling so loudly that I am sure the neighbors can hear. I hate that I have been crying for nearly a half hour. But I know the alternitive. Its holding it all in, like holding your breath for years and years. Or cruder, but perhaps more accurate, holding in your bowels for years. What starts as normal, healthy waste will become rotten and poisonous if not released.
I have done that before. As a teen one night after crying for the hundreth time about my dad drinking I decided I needed to stop crying about it. I knew I couldn't fall apart every time he did this, I had to keep my head together since I was the only one looking out for me anymore. It worked too well. I stopped being able to cry anymore at all.
Not crying at all hardened me and I became sort of mean. By forcing myself to stop crying, I guess I also sent a message to myself that I don't have the RIGHT to cry. These are the cards I was dealt and so I had to play them, crying about the cards I got wasn't going to give me better cards. I made the mistake of witholding compassion, for myself and others. When I look back, my frozen heart reminds me of the hearts of those politicians and voters who don't want to fund school lunch programs because they want to punish the parents for procreating. My politics remained morally upright, (perhaps I was giving other people in my situation the compassion I needed for myself) but my thoughts were mean and judgemental.
This pattern changed when I became suicidal, and now I am learning that I still have work to do on how I should treat myself. All in all, I know this work is worth it. To be able to cry for a half hour is a blessing. In the past few years I would have swallowed it all down. Figuratively and literally, I would have eaten food instead of letting myself feel the feelings. Sadness is a blessing. Anger is a blessing. Grief is a blessing. They are all feelings, which need to be experienced to remain a healthy, balanced human being. The alternative, holding the feelings in, to return to an earlier metaphor, is shitty.