My mother just called to tell me that her mother passed away today, about 2 hours ago. (This is NOT the same "grandma" I mentioned in my previous post, that's my dad's mother.)
Am I a jerk for not feeling sad? Or has it just not hit me yet? I remember her as a crabby old lady, but she loved her cat, and gave me a bunch of kitchen stuff once for helping her move into a new apartment. All her grandkids called her "Gersher" which was short for Grandma Shirley. One time she was babysitting me and my younger sister when we were small, and I brought a "pet slug" into the house, in a jar. She got angry and flushed it down the toilet. My sis actually remembers this better than I do, but it makes me laugh a little today...
When my mom told me that Gersh died, Mom sounded sad, but more relieved. (I hope I'm not reading that wrong...) She had been in a care facility for a long time, was depressed, very disabled from a stroke, and in the past few days, had become unable to eat or drink. Her quality of life was basically zero. The last time I saw her was Mother's Day, when she was confined to a wheelchair, but could still talk a little, and swallow liquids. She had gone downhill from there.
Since her family are Christian Scientists (sorry, that wikipedia page is not well written, but is a decent overview if you're not familiar with that sect) they didn't do any heroic measures to prolong her life, they just tried to keep her comfortable. For a person who never went to a doctor her whole life, never used any medicine, she did okay- she lived a long time and was quite healthy until a few years ago. This morning, both my mother and my aunt visited her before she died. It was after they left, but it sounds like she went peacefully.
Rest in peace, Gersher. I hope there are cats in heaven...
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