Strange Guilt

On Saturday morning, the only woman I ever knew as "Grandma", went into the hospital for shortness of breathe and dizziness. Doctor's ran a series of tests and couldn't find anything seriously wrong other then her electrolytes seemed off. She was kept overnight and plans were made for most tests on Monday.

She never made it to those tests. Instead, she collapsed in the hospital on Sunday night and was air lifted to a more comprehensive hospital near by. I was standing in my yard as the helicopter carrying her flew overhead.  I remember watching the blue helicopter disappear over the tree line as I said a quick prayer for everyone on board.

Later we learned that she suffered a stroke and lost all brain function on one side. She was removed from life support and now we are waiting for her to be called home.


While, I've known her as Grandma for 31 years, the truth is, my Grandma died 47 years ago. I never knew her.

My Grandpa's second wife is a nice woman. She remembers birthdays, anniversaries and special occasions. She treated me no differently then she'd treat anyone she met. We didn't have a special relationship. We didn't do your typical Grandma/Granddaughter stuff. My most vivid memory of her as a child is when I invited her to Grandparents Days in third grade. All the students made kites to fly with their special guests. She told me I made my kite wrong and corrected several of my other classmates for various infractions. The next day my dad brought home a thank you note she wrote me. It confused me. Why thank someone for an event you didn't really seem to enjoy?

We never shared a private joke or a public one for that matter. She didn't come visit Ryan when he was born. When she met him, at 3 months old, she didn't want to touch him for fear he had germ. As the months went on, she would ask about him from time to time, but she never made over him or asked when I would bring him by again. She spent most of my pregnancy telling me my belly wasn't big enough and thus something must be wrong.

She thought it was strange when Mr. Berg changed jobs, even though the change meant more money and more quality time at home. 

So needless to say, I'm feeling rather conflicted. While I am sad she's dying, my sadness is more for the people closest to her. I'm sorry for her biological children. I'm sorry for my dad and his siblings that she adopted when she married my Grandpa. They are now losing a third parent.

I'm sad her death hasn't been quick. I'm sad for aftermath of death is about to bring us.

But my sadness seems to end there. Thus, my issue with this strange feeling of guilt. I didn't really have much of a relationship with her. I didn't really ever know how to interact with her in life. I'm having trouble understanding my emotions around her death. 

Thus, strange guilt. I wish I knew what to do with it.