My grandmother passed away last Sunday, and until then I hadn’t ever really experienced death. There are many emotions that one expects to feel: sadness, pain, guilt, regret. Yet, when my mother opened the door that Sunday morning, her eyes warm brown eyes turned red and puffy, to tell me that my grandmother had passed away the night before as I slept in the room above hers, I felt only relief. I always expected my mind to be a flurry of emotions, but I never anticipated “relief” to be in the mix. What people don’t realize is that my grandmother’s burden is really the family’s burden. I have watched since fifth grade as my grandmother’s seemingly endless years of sickness slowly drained everyone in the family, and as I continue to do my best to relieve them of their burdens, I fear I am not strong enough. I fear the day when everything becomes too much and I lose the people I love to their burdens. …show more content…
When my grandmother first moved in with us in 2011, she had already had breast cancer for roughly three years. By then she had developed dementia and suffered from depression. As a result, her mind became unreasonable and she said things she didn’t really mean, but they hurt nevertheless. Her mind and body slowly deteriorated with the years and she became more and more hysterical, her suffering visible. Everyday when I came from school, I set my backpack beside her where she sat on the same spot on the same couch, I got my snack, watched tv, and left all without a single word from her. She just sat there, waiting. Waiting for her memory to come back, for a cure, for death I don’t know. Just waiting. She would whisper to herself, sometimes it was a prayer, other times it was a wish to go back to India, other times it was just nonsense but it was constant. It was enough to drive a person