Prepared and not prepared

I received the news today my grandmother has become very weak, not eating, barely moving and only having sips of water. The staff at the home she is in think she really might be going.

My grandmother for those of you who don't know has dementia and over the past few months she has been deriating more into the illness and becoming lost to it.

And for all the times I've almost wished and thought it would be better for her to go, than this painful slow merky deepening confusion, when faced with it actually happening I feel myself and hear myself think "please don't let her die."

Which is more about me not wanting to let go, of the grandmother I remember because all this time no matter how prepared I am and no matter how much I know in my heart that if it does happen it's for the best, there's a part of me that's not ready to say goodbye. it's my selfishness

not wanting my last living grandparent to die.

But whether it's today or tomorrow or in a years time I won't be ready. Death is funny that way.

I remember when my grandfather, her late husband died, he died slowly over a week, and each day I visited him, sitting by his hand, watching breathe hesitantly, at time pausing for long moments without a breath and then resuming.

And I remember it was the same as it is now, I couldn't have been more "ready" I knew what was coming, yet so unready when he breathed his last breathe.

SO I'm sitting here, waiting for the news, and it's an odd feeling.

Waiting to here something you are not ready to here.

PS Sorry about the somber nature of this post.