My grandmother died today. It wasn't a surprise. We all knew it was coming soon, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. She was 91 and her health had been failing over the past six months, ever since my aunt (her eldest daughter) died in December. I knew the phone call would be coming soon. It came as I was driving through twisting and turning mountain roads on the way home from the Sierras. I am glad it was my sister who called -- if it had been my mother, I don't think I would have been able to keep my composure behind the wheel.
I last saw Grandma in October. She feared it would be the last time we saw each other, but I kind of buried my head in the sand about that possibility. At that point, I was facing the knowledge that it was to be the last time I would see my aunt alive. I couldn't deal with the idea that I wouldn't see my grandmother again.
I am going to fly home to be with my mom and help her in the next few days as she prepares for the funeral and all of the other details that need attending. The funeral is on Friday, so I'll probably leave on Tuesday. That will give me tomorrow to wrap up all the stuff here that needs to be addressed before I can leave for five days. Fortunately, my in-laws can be ready at a moment's notice to take the girls.
This is the third death in our family in nine months -- R's grandmother, my aunt, and my grandmother. S is starting to wonder why so many of the people in her life are going to Heaven. But in the innocence that only a very young child can possess, she looked at me and asked, "I bet that Bisnonna and the other Bisnonna are talking to each other in Heaven right now." She made herself so happy with that thought. It made me feel a little better too.