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My Grandma Has Until Friday

My mom just told me my grandma, my dads mom, has three days to live. I don't know how to feel. I don't feel anything.

Let me explain.

I avoid things. Block them out. I've learned-or this is how I cope-with the 'bad' things. I don't want to remember my middle school bully, so I block it out. I don't want to remember high school, so I block it out. But then it all comes back sometimes, and it hurts. But my therapist and I are working on that.


With my grandma, who is such an integral person in my life, I don't want to deal with it. My mom, dad, aunt-everyone-is telling me, nonchalantly, that my grandma is going to die within the week.

I. Can't. Deal. With. It.

Half of me is just blocking it all out.

The other half feels like breaking down.

My mom said, and I quote, "You don't have to come up for the service."

If that sounds evil (And remember, this isn't her mother), it is half rational. I don't want to see it. I can't.


I won't have any grandparents left. Yeah, I miss the other ones, but they're figments. I don't know them so well. They're gone.

But this was the woman that let me vent. Among other things.

I saw her state on Christmas day. She was gone. On Thanksgiving she was fine. I'm just...I'm going to bed.


I can't deal with this, so I'm going to push it away until I see my therapist again.

I don't know how to feel. It's safer not to.

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