Big Girls Don't Cry

It's one of the worst things in the world to see a parent cry. Maybe it's because our whole lives, we as children got so used to being the ones shedding the tears, and having our parents pat us on the back and tell us that it's all okay, really. So when it's our turn to provide some form of comfort, we're not entirely sure how to adequately reciprocate. It's okay with peers. With friends, usually it's a matter of going to buy hot chocolate, giving hugs, lending and ear and, if applicable and appropriate, offering thorough verbally abuse of the person or people who caused the problems to try and get a smile. But it's not quite the same with an adult. And anyway, this isn't something that can be made marginally better by humor.

Nobody close to me has ever died. But I was around when dad lost both of his parents, and just today I found out that my mum doesn't expect my grandad to even make it to next Friday. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like. When I was little, I used to have nightmares about my parents dying. But I'm sure that not even the worst nightmares can compare to the actual thing, when there's no chance of waking up and knowing that none of it was real.

I have no idea what Pop's thinking. They have him so drugged up that half the time it doesn't appear that he even knows what he's saying. Sometimes he can't even get the words out, and apparently today he couldn't even find the energy to eat. He hasn't been able to walk for over a month, has his bladder connected to a bag, can't pick up a fork to feed himself. Actually, I hope he's really out of it. That way, he can't be upset about the way things are. But he'd be the only one. Watching Nan is actually heartbreaking, and in a way, as far as pain goes, she has it worse than pop does. Imagine being by the side of your husband of over 50 years, watching him slip further and further away, and knowing that there is absolutely nothing that you can do to help him get better. I can't even begin to comprehend.

The other day he asked Nan, "when are we going home?". And I felt like I was going to cry. I don't know whether he'll make it that long, but if he does, I swear that as soon as my exams are done, I'll drive the six hours to Tumut and take photos and pick up some things to bring back. He might not even recognize anything by then, but at least it'll be there.

If there is a god, where the fuck is it?