just got word from my sister that our grandmother (and last surviving grandparent) is seriously, quite likely fatally, ill. severly low blood pressure, which like the kidney failure that killed at least two other grandparents, is just the last straw. if it doesn’t go up in the next few days she’ll die, says Eliz.
she’s 92, so it’s not as though she’s dying before her time or anything. hell, I’d be damn happy to live so long, though I don’t want my last few years to be like hers have been. (parkinson’s, mostly, plus the usual (!) broken hip)
but she’s Grandma, and losing Grandma…
I can’t stop feeling guilty because I’ve been so terrible at keeping in touch since I moved up here, and in particular since I graduated from college and essentially stopped going to Calif. if I go down now, she’ll either be unconsious, or in any case not herself (the grandma I remember) at all. if I go to the funeral…ugh. I don’t know if I want to go. when Grandpa D. died, about 8 years ago (so long?), and I went to the funeral, I had the feeling that this particular group of people, my relatives on that side, would only all be in the room again one more time, and that would be for Grandma’s funeral.
(as it turns out, I was wrong. everybody went to Aunt Jane’s last wedding except me.)
I just feel raw & rambly and I don’t know quite what to do or say.