Through the woods

My grandma's emergency surgery went well and she has stints in.
The doc says she looks good and should recover well.

We were already planning on going to CA next weekend to see her and my aunt.
We might go this weekend.

I don't decide that stuff. We'd go a lot more often if I did.
But it is expensive and just because I have no social life to speak of - my brother and sis-in-law do.
And she was preg for a long time and too ill to do much of anything.
And now they've a little baby.

Blah blah blah.

There's no point to anything I'd say here now.

I feel relieved but with none of the rush of well-being that usually accompanies that word.

Deci - decimated - deciannual

What is it about 10 years?

I just got a call from Greg. Just before I was going to head to bed.
Grandma's having a heart attack right now.
Oh. Wow.
Something I didn't really hear about emergency surgery and Aunt Lynn updating him.

All I can think is
No
I have a lot of thoughts but
No

I'm not ready. Still. I'm still not ready.
Not for any of it.
Not to be an adult. Not to be without her. Without Mom. Maybe soon without Grandma. Maybe soon that much more alone. Without recourse.

I don't want her to die thinking I didn't love her or thinker her. Ibdont want her to think I'm less fond of her but I think she does. I'm very worried that she will die thinking so much less of my love. Of me.

And that that's who I am. And why shouldn't it be this way?
So close to 10 years since she lost her daughter. An she never really recovered.
Neither did I but is that an excuse?

Issues I've had for years. But is that an excuse?

Plans to make it up. I was drafting a letter in my head. An explination. Words where the void of action is large enough to swallow me whole and diminish me and my love to nothing.

And no way back from the void. No way to go so far alone.

And unable to sleep and sore and shocked and confused and crying
And I have no where to turn. No one to listen. No one to care that I haven't ruined already with bitters.

I deserve resentment and withdrawal. And I've what I've earned.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I was supposed to be better before the world tilted crazily again. I dont have my balance.
I'm not fixed. I'm still broken.
There's still so much to repair in the rundown thing of my self.

I was supposed to go away, to be gone within myself, huddled against the hurt. And when I was brave enough to emerge again, whole enough to really be again, I trusted that everything would be as it was.
That people would be were they were.
That love would be unblemished, undiminished.

The world should halt for grief.
Grief halts the world.

But it moves petulantly. Achingingly. Bruisingly. Shoving forward where I no wish, no hope, no me left to go.

No

Not ready.

I'm not ready to deal.

And I don't want to be alone at the end.
And I only have myself to blame that I most likely will be.