I can feel it coming. I feel a strong sense guilt, but not just about my grandpa. No, it’s more like this general “I should be a better person” feeling. Like, when my grandpa dies, he will go to hell unless I promise to take his place. But it’s not grandiose. I’m not some special savior. It’s just a human soul for a human soul. Or maybe I’ll go to hell and he will rest in heaven, no sacrifices. And don’t I deserve hell, since I’m failing at being good? But intent matters, doesn’t it? I mean, I thought God was supposed to be forgiving.
I don’t want him to go, but I know he’s ready.
My mom wants to watch TV alone, even though it’s our thing. We always watch TV together. This is the 3rd day in a row that she’s promised we’d watch TV together, only to talk about how tired she is in order to “trick” me into letting her off the hook. It’s very obvious what she’s doing, but I play along anyway. I get that she’s tired, which is fine, but the issue isn’t her not wanting to watch TV. No, the issue is her setting a specific time to watch, allowing me to get everything ready, only to call me downstairs when I text her at that specified time to ask if she’s ready and moan about how exhausted she is (or, as in what happened last evening, calling me downstairs only for her to tell me that she took a benadryl because she was “tired and anxious”). If you don’t want to watch TV with me, say that you don’t want to watch TV with me. Don’t string me along, having me thinking that we’re finally going to spend some time together and talk about something other that my grandpa’s illness, the hospital’s negligence, the insurance company’s ridiculousness, or our problematic financial situation.
No one really cares what I want or need. They never do, until I end up in crisis. In fact, I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I can’t have another crisis because the family wouldn’t be able to handle it, as if I just woke up one morning and decided to have an episode because I wanted some attention.
I am the rock; insightful, compassionate, and forgiving, easy to trust, and even easier to rely on. But people are only really interested in me when it benefits them. Outside of a handful of this forum’s members, I have no friends. Not a single one of my “friends” from high school has ever returned a text or call, and you can bet your ass that none of them have ever attempted to contact me first. Even the one person from this OCD chatroom that I considered to be my best friend pretty much disappeared out of thin air as soon as the stresses of college were over. I suppose I really do walk alone.
So here I am, sitting in this room with no one other than my gassy dog, with the light off and my phone flashlight on because that’s the way she likes it, waiting for the inevitable.
My grandpa has a small chance of making it, but I think this is the end. Damn… 86 years… That’s a long ass time. May he rest easy.