Do you think you can hurt me still? I’m not going to let you. Do you think I’m going to continue to let this shit phase me? Well I’m not. Maybe the old me would, but I don’t give two shits about what they say behind my back. What you say behind my back. You think your ignoring me scares me? That playing games with my head is okay? That’s fine, keep going, it will only make me stronger in the end. I have already accepted what I should have realized long before… this meant nothing to you. I was safe to you, your security blanket. Maybe you stayed with me this long out of obligation. You see, that doesn’t work for me. Your deception and manipulation can no longer be a tool against me, I will not be brought down to your level now or ever. I deserve to be someone’s everything. I deserve honesty, not humiliation. I will have fire and passion, and love that’s returned, equally. I will be someone’s heart, even if that means breaking my own. Don’t worry, I won’t call you, I won’t fall for your mind tricks any more. I won’t be the first to break this time. I didn’t want this. I wanted us to be okay, to be mutual, to be civil. Especially with the close proximity we must be around each other. I tried, probably too hard, to make it right, so don’t get all butt hurt when it doesn’t work out your way. The last time we spoke, you said we’d be friends. We’d be happy for each other and supportive as well. The next day, you act like I have a bug on my face. You heard things about me, and changed your mind I suppose. Yeah this hurt for a bit, knowing that someone who called me their soul mate could be as cold as this, but I think I’m getting used to it by now. No longer will I let you hurt me, no longer will I let you rent space for free in my head. I am detaching myself emotionally, letting myself move on, can’t think about the past, only about a future of bettering myself. Maybe I owe you a thanks for showing me how. How to let go, how to move on, and the need to love myself first. I hope you do the same, I don’t wish ill upon you, even though I think I deserve to have hatred towards you. You see, I didn’t grow up that way. Maybe I should have grown thicker skin earlier, but where I come from you don’t treat people you say ‘I love you’ with such malice and disgrace. Sometimes it makes me sick just thinking about it, how I fell for it all over again. But this time will be different, this time I won’t budge and go back with false hopes to have my heart hammered bloody all over again.
You’ve been here for over a week. You’ve barely had anything to drink, and nothing to eat. I don’t know how you are still breathing. Today, Maureen Daily came in and sang hymns for you that you love. She has such a beautiful voice. I was laying in the pull-out bed, and couldn’t sit up. But I was listening the whole time, while mom sang along with her and you seemed to sing along too.
Brad also came by to see you. He’s been such a good friend of yours. It’s hard for him to go to a hospice, because his wife died in one. He is still depressed about that. But you gave Brad the joy and comfort he needed after his wife passed. You were a blessing to him, and I know he appreciates that more than you can know.
Leigh brought your friend, Trudy today as well. I’m not sure how close you guys were, but she said some very kind things to you, and about you. You’ve had so many visitors and phone calls and people that don’t want to see you go.
Grandma, you’ve always been so strong. Relentless even. The doctors said you were going to die six months ago because of liver failure, even though you’re not a drinker. But you came back from that, a miraculous recovery. You were doing so well, walking around, with and without your walker. You even bought a new car! A Subaru of course. I know you’re strong, but grandma, it’s time to let go. Mom and I have been spending the night ever since you entered the hospice. I came home to sleep one night after work. And I had to come home tonight.
I feel bad for leaving mom alone. But I think tonight is the night. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay there. I had to do this for me. I said my goodbyes, and you heard them, I know. But if you go tomorrow, that’s okay too. Easter Sunday. The 31st. Just like G.G. who died on January 31st a year ago. If you’re still there tomorrow, I’ll come. But if you’re not, I know where you’ll be.
I’m so tired. Exhausted. Mom, your only child, has been there with you this whole time. I can only imagine how she’s feeling. I had to call work and let them know I couldn’t come in this morning. I thought you’d be gone by then. But you’re still breathing. We’re thinking the funeral’s going to be on Friday.
Let go Grandma, Please, let go. Go gently into that goodnight. Don’t rage against the dying of the light. You don’t need to suffer anymore. You don’t need to sustain these worldly problems on your shoulders anymore. Just think of the relief.
I love you, grandma. I’ll be singing for you tomorrow.