The phone call.

I just got the call from my dad. My grandma died at around 3:30 this afternoon.

I've gone down to visit her every weekend the past month or two, every time knowing that it would probably be the last time I ever saw her alive. This doesn't come as a shock at all... it wasn't unexpected. Not like my other grandparents, we had plenty of time to brace ourselves for the inevitable.

I didn't go see my grandma today because of a phone call I got from my dad earlier in the week. Every time I saw her before, she never really responded to anything I said or did, but you could always tell she was listening and she understood. It was a look in her eyes or something... I'm not sure. But my dad said this week she was especially distant, never responding to anything, and she probably wouldn't even know I was in the room. I didn't think I could handle seeing her like that. Sarah and Robert also weren't going down until tomorrow, so I was going to get a ride with them, and that way I'd have some way to get away from the grandma situation if I needed to get away from it.

But unfortunately there will be no trip tomorrow.

Why do I always choose the worst times to fuck up? Why did I even bother going down there every single weekend if I chose to not go the one time it actually mattered? Sure, my grandma may not have even known I was there, but I would have liked to have been there for my mom, my grandpa, my uncle, and my cousin who made the trip from Kansas City. And it was for such a stupid, selfish reason. I didn't want to brave it alone, I didn't think I could handle seeing my grandma in the state she was in, I wanted someone else there to distract me from everything. What a retard I am sometimes. Ironically enough, I was at my parents doing laundry when I got the phone call.

She went peacefully. She just sort of drifted off, breating less and less, more and more shallow until it was obvious that she wasn't going to be breathing anymore.

And that's about all I have to say about that.