Mourning by inches

I realized today after I hung up from the phonecall with my grandfather, why exactly I've been unconsciously avoiding my three of my four grandparents for the past couple of years.

It's not death. It's the deterioration. Both my grandmothers just aren't there mentally - haven't been for years, in Nanny's case. And today, hearing Grandpa's voice - so weak and frail, when he's always had such a towering presence, just hurt. I get annoyed with him when he won't listen, but when he can't even hear me, and it takes an entire conversation just to tell him my phone number...

I called Dad next, and burst into tears on him. When I calmed down, he gave me the other bad news: Nanny's not eating, and she's stopped responding to anything.

I'll mourn her passing, but there's such a sense of relief in there, too. She'll finally be free. Free of the moribund flesh she left behind when her mind wandered off. Free of the slow dying by inches she's been doing the past few years, the quiet creep into the grave.

The house stuff is creeping along, but I looked up my allowed bereavement days from work today.