So, I found out this morning that my grandmother passed away around 12:15 last night. She had fallen and broken her hip a few days ago, and there's been talk ever since then about whether she'd survive the surgery or not. Well, at first she did, but then she wasn't eating enough after it was over, and eventually she passed into the night.
She had been having trouble for a long time prior to this anyway. I don't know if anyone remembers me mentioning it, but... it was getting to the point where she couldn't even remember my grandfather anymore, let alone my mother or any of her grandchildren. She was unable to remember where she was or why she was there, so she was often anxious and either running off or getting into accidents. Her health wasn't good either, and she was often in pain.
In a way, I guess I'm glad she's dead. At least it means that she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'll still miss her though, and my mother is really heartbroken. She's been crying off and on all day. I'm lucky she didn't smell the cigarettes on me the last time she hugged me, because I had just gotten back from going out to the park to smoke. And... I had smoked quite a few.
My grandfather didn't even want to have a funeral, he's so upset. So, my uncle Jamie is holding a memorial service sometime around the second weekend of April. I'll probably be going as well.
Anyway, I spent most of the day doing nothing... aside from chatting with a few friends and trying to write. I spent my last $3 on some Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers because she always used to have those at her house when we came over to visit. She used to save the empty containers from her butter and pour goldfish crackers into them, and I would eat them all up and then ask for two or three refils.
I used to love going to see her. Her house was always quiet and clean, so unlike my parent's house growing up. While I was there I could do whatever I wanted, and I didn't have to worry about being told what to do, or beaten, or screamed at. She'd do cool things like let me watch movies for half the day, or teach me arts and crafts, or let me help her prepare dinner. When I was only a couple years old we actually lived with her for awhile, during the time that our first house was being built. I can't remember much of it though, I was only two.
Also, my middle name is her first name... at least, until I change it. I don't know if I mentioned it, but when I change my name to a male one I'm going to change all three names, first, middle, and last. In a way, I'm kinda glad I didn't change it while she was still alive. I think it's appropriate that I ended up keeping her name until she passed away.
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