my grandmother passed

This month my grandmother passed. I have lived with her for nine years and was her caregiver for four. I don't think a lot of people my age have the experience of being in that position and what it's like. There's no guideline to how to take care of a sick person or where to harness the emotional maturity for the task in your twenties. Illness consumes a household. I had to do a lot of the funeral organizing, which in a way I was honored to do but would be happier if she was still here.

I made us friendship bracelets for her burial. I keep thinking I should have made them while she was still alive. I miss our late night talks, and I miss her smile and her jokes. I wish there was less material struggle in our lives so we could have had more room to breathe and treasure our last moments with each other. My life is upside down now. I don't really know where I am. The only thing that keeps me from killing myself is the fact she fought so hard to live despite everything, so there must be something to life. I still don't understand that. What I do understand is loss is mutual, and death is a change and not an ending. She is still my best friend. While we can't communicate how we used to the one language we both share is overcoming challenges and change.

I just live now to do it. I know I will die sooner than later so I am thankful that nothing is tethering me to Earth. If my life was taken from me I don't think I'd really mind. I made a shrine of her, which I don't want to share on here to protect her identity. I play her favorite phone game to feel a little closer to her. Pursuing joy feels immature and self destructive because it's always fleeting. Regret is just contrast for satisfaction. If there is no end goal, nothing to seize while your alive, what's the point of living? My grandmother must have found the answer to that along the way. I wonder what it was.