#JanieBell Grief in the process of death and dying
My granny died. She meant the world to me. I am in shock. I cry and then I laugh remembering her. Some where inside of me I know she is dead yet another part of me LONGS to touch her one more time or to hear her laugh and say my name.
I want to fall into guilt I got a new phone on Monday and it deleted her text messages and her voices mails. I am not upset I just acknowledge the feel of the pain. I am also a therapist so a part of me can compartmentalize. But only so much. I am human. My grandmother is the very center of all of our lives SHE was the one that kept in touch with everyone. Our going joke is that Janie Bell was the internet BEFORE there was internet.
She kept us all informed about everyone and everything. From Cleveland to Southern California or Utah I only needed to contact granny and she would talk away. I could sit with her for hours no matter day or night. My granny would talk with me.
She told me I was magic and I believed everything she said because she was right and it was true. My granny was flawed and imperfect once a drug addict that was homeless, bet she kept a job she loved to say." I went to work and partied on the weekends. and I told them FUCK them when they got on my nerves enough, there is always another job." JB
My granny could tell a story and I loved to hear them. My granny was mean too. She suffered from addictions, depression, and had been hospitalized for "nerves breakdowns" more than once in her life. Married to more than one man that enjoyed beating the shit out of her she swore off of them. I talked to my granny last and I asked her why she lived alone.
"I lived with family for 20 years helping them out and never feeling like I was at home. Talk to me any ol kinda way, I'll rather be alone than feel uncomfortable again. I like my peace and when I leave my apartment it will be in a bag by my feet."
And that is exactly what happened. She left with a peaceful look on her face feet first out of her door. Damn stuburn old bird, yes but deeper the sadness I feel that as a family we failed her... She died alone in a room because as a family we could not mannage to get along.
We get along at work, in school, and in public but with our families we tell ourselves. I dont really do them, or Im not feeling her, Or he get on my nerve and so we talking sideways and out of pocket. Yelling and verbally lashing out. Like kids... And the wedges become bigger and the divides wide. Until we are alone. Willing to die, alone.