For a good chunk of my 30 years on this Earth I’ve been helping to take care of older, sick relatives. First, my maternal grandfather who was bedridden for 4 years after a fall followed by a stroke. Then, my maternal grandmother slowly slipped into dementia until she passed on an August night a little over 2 years ago. Both lived full lives and passed peacefully. But the process of seeing them falter after knowing them as strong individuals is soul crushing.
I’m now taking care of my partner’s grandmother. While I’m not alone, this third time around of being a caretaker of a family member not directly my own confirms what I already knew: death is easier to confront than the process of dying. It’s ugly, reeks, and it is extremely hard to grapple with if you aren’t at peace with your own life.
Nevermind whatever happens at the funeral. Family members show their true colors in moments like this.
