Thursday, April 2, 2009
Daniel talking about family
I'm home now after 5 (at least) hours of travel and 3 (or so) hours at the hospital. My grandmother's eyes are so frightened. Her mouth moves and I lean in to hear but I understand nothing. Muffled. Everything is softened and I remember earlier softnesses, her fully white head, her round stomach and several chins. Now her grip is like steel, clamping my palm; her arms willowy and silken. So much air padding the skin. My dad has to tie her arms to the bedrail when we leave so she doesn't tear out her IV like she managed to last night. I'm proud and afraid.
Mostly, I am sad. Sad like expectant, like relief and fear and weight. A weight that grows and shrinks simultaneously.