The Roles we play

We all deal with death and dying different ways....and sometimes fall into roles we wont normally play. My grandmother is dying...the doctor , although clarifying she is not God (like I was about to bow down and pray @ her feet), nevertheless said she has maybe 48 hrs. While she was talking to me I remember thinking its was just like that Cancer commercial that comes on where the Cancer Survivor says " he said Peggy you are dying...said it so cold like he was telling the weather".  No matter how empathetic she , the doc, would be it all seemed cold and impersonal. Its the words themselves. And although I did my share of crying earlier today I knew this was not the time. And I realized then I fell into that role...the role I always play in emergencies and disasters...the stoic Caregiver/ Organizer role.The one who pulls you aside and hugs you while you cry...one who prompts the family members and friends into reading a scripture when everyone is standing around the bed unsure of what to do, and  the one who talks you out of further destroying hospital property.

One of my younger cousins came today, unfortunately in recent times she had a falling out with my grandmother and her mother (my aunt). But soon as she walked in the door and saw her laying there she broke down.  I knew she felt regret. Oh maybe I think she did....she exclaimed "Whats wrong with her, she looks like she is in pain!" And although I knew crying was expected....the noise , guttural noise this petite woman made took me for surprise. And then she fell into the role. The role of "over-come with grief , cant stand up , cant talk, sobbing loudly I am disturbing the other patients on the floor" role.  And as expected she couldnt stay long...but I knew she tried but was thrown for a loop. Unlike me or my brother , she like the other cousins were partly raised by my grandmother. They knew her longer...they were with her day in day out...and probably took care of them when they were sick, changed their diapers, signed parental release forms and all of that. And I felt for her...my cousin..I felt for her cause I knew she left that hospital regretting some things. Death and dying makes you do that you know.

 

My uncle, the youngest one, who is partly estranged from the family came by also...My grandmother adopted him when his mother died, he was 17 at the time. He is a yr older than my brother and like some men, or should I say most...expressing his pain and hurt is hard for him. So he did it the only way he knew how..he punched a hole into the hospital wall and of course had bloody knuckles to show for it. He then fell into the role of the Angry Disbelieving Relative. He later left with tears streaming down his blood shot eyes, and my 5 dollars in his pockets...my guess is to buy more alcohol to help deal with it all. His breath gave him away.

But I realized..these are roles we fall into...none bad or good, better or worse than the other...they are what they are. Purely...equivalently HUMAN.

Today I was told, I should tell my grandmother things I always wanted to say. And it hit me..I said them all. Although I never grew up with her, and only came to know her from age 16 I dont reget any of it. However I am scared...scared that the family we know will be now broken. You see alot of us, I could say them, but I realised I am included, for alot of us , she was the glue that kept us together. The reason we even tolerated the other on holidays. The reason we even bothered visiting. And I am afraid once she is gone...so too does that glue. Because unfortunately...we might be family and we might love each other but many of us dont like the other.

That is such a sad way to end this entry...but I am tired of typing.