It almost seems poetic the way the people have passed in my life and my final words to them. Literally the last words I said to my mother and grandfather before they passed was "I love you." This would be the same situation with my grandmother.
On the day of her passing after my sister and sister-in-law had to leave to go back to Ohio I was left with my grandmother in her room and able to take breaks to go outside to vape in their courtyard. After about thirty minutes of sitting in the room with Wilma after my sister left I went outside to vape where I sat with one of the other residents and talked about her dog. After I vaped four or five hits I told her "Well, I'm going back to check on granny." She said "Alright," and so I went back inside and headed to my grandmother's room. I got my notepad out and was going to do some writing. Wilma was being given morphine and lorazepam and wasn't really conscious just breathing routinely in a rasping tone. Before I started writing I leaned over to Wilma's right ear and said "I'm back," and in the most loving tone possible I told her "I love you." Not one minute later she was gone.
Her breathes started to space out more and more until her final two breathes and then they all stopped. Right after I looked upon her and looking into her eyes, I could see she was gone. It was the same look my mother had whenever she died in my grandparent's living room. I looked up and a staff was walking by, I motioned for her to come in and said, "I think she's gone." The staff went over and called her name, checked her pulse, and then turned to me and shook her head acknowledging my assumption, that my grandmother was gone forever. This hurt tremendously because I loved her so very much
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Searching for the Answer
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of stories involving childhood abuse and trauma through a first-person impactful perspective mostly chronological. It is my story and is not fabricated in any way. I am posting just to get feedback thank you.
