Mourn

Desiree

Mourn

Desiree
drop-of-water-417468_640I'm sitting here in the hospital again, waiting while Grandma has her PT appointment (one of two per week) and, as Heaven be my witness, I'd rather be anywhere else but here.

My mother died in this hospital, a little over two weeks ago. I never used to hate this place, not really. But now....

Mom always deeply loathed, despised and hated hospitals. All hospitals. The sad and bitter irony of her dying in one just floors me. I'm pretty sure that if she had a choice, she would sooner have made her final departure from the self-checkout line at Walmart. Since home was apparently not an option.

In the days since she died, I've had very little time to just sit alone, to think, to remember. To mourn. My husband and kids have been very gentle with me. And I am indescribably thankful for this. Grandma, however, has not eased up on me, or cut me any slack. I don't think she's being deliberately unkind. I do think she is simply clueless about the feelings of others. Any others. Including me. It just has not occurred to her that driving her to the hospital twice a week could be a problem for me.

Truthfully, it's agony. I'm sitting here with my head ducked down, avoiding any eye contact, or conversation. While streams of silent tears run down my face. When she comes back out, she'll probably notice, and wonder.

But she won't ask.