Sign up to EliteSkills

Already have an account? Login to Roleplay.Cloud
Forgot password? Recover Password

Selfish Grieving

Author: Kalidoscopeeyes
ASL Info:    18/f
Elite Ratio:    3.64 - 122 /151 /29
Words: 772
Class/Type: Misc /Misc
Total Views: 1608
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 4243


January 13, 2006 my grandmom died.

Selfish Grieving

January 14, 2006
Is it weirder that she died on Friday the 13th or that it was Tommy's birthday? Or that I cried endlessly this past week waiting for her to die, but can't cry at all a day after she really did die? And all I can feel right now is the knot in my chest and all I can see are memories floating in and out. I remember sitting on her front porch, feeling pretty, just Grandmom, Angela, and me, waving at the cars that drove past because the one that waved back was a keeper. And she would only wear pink lipstick. And when she cooked, she would let Angela and me stand on chairs to get things out of cupboards. Late nights and cinnamon apples. The four metallic cups- blue, green, yellow, and the pink one was mine- one for each of us. Sunday dinners. "Whatever floats your boat" and "Know what I mean, Jellybean?" She was the first person I told that I wanted to start shaving my legs. (It's ironic that she prided herself with having a great pair of legs and it ended up being the thing that killed her) Our games of truth and dare and the famous Ken. Egg hunts and egg nog. Thunder and lightening is nothing but the angels bowling. All Come All Ye Faithful.
And this past week, when it was indescribable how hard it was to try to smile when I knew that there wasn't much time left. And how she smiled when I said she was pretty. (On a birthday card, she wrote, "Rose are red, violets are blue, guess what?, I'm prettier than you! Ha ha ha) She kept her sense of humor and her temper up until the last time I saw her conscious. I so badly wanted to give her water and apple sauce. And the docter talking to us while we sat in the waiting room--telling us quite bluntly that she was to go to hospice and go quietly. I couldn't take it. I broke down. And I had to go back to the room to say goodbye and I told her I loved her and she said in a muffled voice through the breathing mask, "I love you too." Those were the last words we said to each other and I'm glad for it, but it still hurts. And "What a Wonderful World" began on the radio as I walked out of hospice for the last time.

January 18, 2006
The person who she was, in all of those pictures, didn't deserve to die, but the person she became was better off that way.

January 24, 2006
I've never really thought about my religious beliefs or defined them, but at a time like this, I hope there's a heaven for her sake. For people so pure and unconsciously and consciously selfless, there needs to be that utopia after life. There has to be that reward. (If not, then why live?)
Since she died, I've found myself questioning everything. More importantly, I've thought about her so much and remembered all of these things I thought I'd forgotten. And because I've accepted her death but I'm still selfishly grieving, I'll think about her a lot every day for a long time.

And I hope we keep the house.

February 4, 2006
I find myself listening to Frank Sinatra a lot and smiling to myself and trying so hard not to cry that I have a permanent headache. I've accepted it in the sense that the suffering needed to end and she was too good for the life she'd been living. (I blame them for her deteriorating health these last several years. And I hate them for taking advantage of her and taking everything they could possibly take.) But what I cannot accept is that I'll never see her again. See her smile. Hear her sing (because god knows she loved to sing). Smell the Red Door perfume. (For some reason, I associate her perfume with the purple Royal Crown pouch that kept change in.) I wanted her to see me graduate from high school and go to college. I found an old birthday card she gave to me. She signed it," P.S. I'm real proud of you." I want to make her proud, to be the first of her descendents to complete college.
When will I stop grieving? Will I stop grieving? How will I know? Do I want to stop anyway? Because at least this way my memories of her are fresh in my mind and I haven't forgotten.

Submitted on 2006-02-06 19:26:43     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
Edit post

Rate This Submission

1: >_<
2: I dunno...
3: meh!
4: Pretty cool
5: Wow!


  oh, Danielle...


You kept it to yourself in school but now I can see it has really impacted you.

Your first entry was heartwrenchingly sad.

I'm very glad you started writing on this site again. I think it's the way you best express yourself.

And I'm sorry she never got to see you graduate from Poly (it is kind of a big thing, from Poly, even if we make it out like it isn't) and where you are going to go afterwards. But I bet she knew you were going to be a success. At least she knew and at least you always made her happy while she was alive because you're such a good smart girl.

Wish I could feel that way about my grandparents. Sadly, I can't because they all seem to focus on making us miserable.

Peace + *hug*,
Dani <3
| Posted on 2006-02-14 00:00:00 | by Astarael | [ Reply to This ]
  I'm new to this site, and have been just wondering around, reading this and that. I came across you're entry. First, let me say how sorry I am for your pain. Death is never easy, whether it was best or not, it's always a painful experience. I have lost many people in my life. The most recent was a friend who died of Breast Cancer. She was in remission for two years when all of a sudden it was in her stomach, her kidneys, her liver and finally her brain. She fought until they told her she had brain cancer, then she gave up. Within weeks of her giving up, she passed away. Even when you know it's for the best, their at peace, no more suffering, it doesn't ease the hurt or pain. Reading your entry brought that pain back, which is a good thing. It makes a person realize how special life is and how special every person in life is! Thank you for that. May she rest in peace and may you find peace yourself. I lost a brother in '94 - you will never stop grieving. A part of you will always grieve the loss of a loved one, however, you will be able to go on and smile when you think of her and cherish the time you had. I wish you the best. Keep writing, I find it's helped me through the years...
| Posted on 2006-02-08 00:00:00 | by nicklacymatthew | [ Reply to This ]
  Merry Meet Kalidoscopeeyes. I am very sorry for your loss. Grandmothers are very special people. I understand the pain a little. March 3 2005 my sister Julie killed herself. She was 17 years old. Two weeks later my favorite Aunt died. 3 months before, a very close friend died. My friend and my aunt I accepted and grieved for easily. I didn't love them any less, but the death of my sister I have taken harder. So has 75% of my town. Their are still eople who went to school with her that grieve her absence. I know that I have pretty much refused to go through the process and it is hurting me. I still see Jeps like she drove and think Oh there she is. Or I will see a girl that from afar looks like her, and catch myself trying to catch up to her. I have been told that I will never get over missing any of them. But over time the searing pain I feel when I think of Julie will dull. I did with my aunt and friend. So I guess it will too with my sister. I found writing helps. I even posted two poems about the situations on here. Just keep trudging. If you need to talk feel free to pm me. I hope I said something useful. Blessed Be Andrea
| Posted on 2006-02-07 00:00:00 | by magickandie | [ Reply to This ]

Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

1. Be honest.
2. Try not to give only compliments.
3. How did it make you feel?
4. Why did it make you feel that way?
5. Which parts?
6. What distracted from the piece?
7. What was unclear?
8. What does it remind you of?
9. How could it be improved?
10. What would you have done differently?
11. What was your interpretation of it?
12. Does it feel original?