Thank you all for your comments, thoughts, and prayers over the last few weeks. Edna died last Sunday night, the 18th, at around 9 p.m. My dad, my sister, and I were by her side holding her as she left us, along with her best friend and her husband, for whom I am also eternally grateful.
I need to write about Edna and my experiences over the last three weeks. But even more than that, I've needed to get back to "normal," whatever the hell that may turn out to be now. I don't know if it's selfish or just human nature, but whatever it is, I need time for myself and with my little family. It sounds odd even to me, but I need the hell of getting up early and going to school, and of rushing to squeeze in dinner, Andrew's "homework," laundry, bath time, feeding our Happy Aquarium fish on Facebook (How addicted AM I to that stupid aquarium? It's been a meditative lifesaver these last few weeks, trust me. Check it out--I need more "friends."), my regular TV-viewing schedule (Is anyone else hot for the doctor on Three Rivers and the bad vampire on The Vampire Diaries? Especially that evil vampire, LOL.), and even trying to read and sleep on a regular schedule. Okay, that was the sentence from hell, I know. Read it without the parentheses and then go back for the inserts...it makes sense, really.
Anyway, I have a list of things I want to focus on--morbidly enough, it might have to be a series devoted to the dying experience (from second-hand knowledge and observations, of course). Things like how I can't be around any sleeping person or pet without watching to make sure they're breathing. I have second-guessing questions that I need to explore, such as, could we have stopped the process at some point? Any point? Also, the soul-searching questions such as, when it comes time for me to die, do I want to know it's happening or be completely oblivious, and of course, the unanswerable questions about what happens afterward, if anything.
I have pictures, too. Pictures of flowers, of family, and of the whole experience. Some are for public viewing, some aren't. I took them not to be morbid or passe about her death, but because it was such a powerful experience that I don't want to forget a minute of it, even the most unpleasant ones. Some of those will make it up, eventually. Most won't.
In the meantime, though, we prepare for Halloween festivities...and I fight the urge to call and tell Grandma about Andrew's milestones, such as his first invitation to a school friend's party, crazy hair day today at his school, and the trip to the pumpkin patch over the weekend. And I try to prepare myself for milestones without her--a trip to the lake next weekend, Andrew wearing his captain's hat without Grandma wearing her matching one, and all of the millions of things that remind me of her and bring me to tears every second of the day. For us, life goes on...although it's feeling pretty empty.