80 Christmas Dinners- For Helen (Przybyla) Kleya

Well, I've lost a post, because the computer decided to crash. So I'll have to try to reinvent it, because I'd like to have this out of my system, and onto the blog.

I'm not sure how I'm going to handle today. It started off somewhat strangely (considering how most people start off their day) with clocking out, getting a paycheck and depositing it into an ATM, followed by paying way too much for gasoline. $2.29. What the hell is that.

Anyway, I drove home, knowing that my family would probably be getting up soon after I got there. They did. They left at about 8am, I stayed here, and will soon sleep. I can't imagine how they can do what they're about to do, which is more or less to be somewhere. My grandmother's condition has worsened from a few days ago and having exhausted all options that don't directly contradict her wishes not to be given a feeding tube, her ventilator is going to be turned off today, meaning that it is more than likely that she'll pass away in the next day or so. This isn't a completely foreign situation for me...my paternal grandfather passed away in about the same way in 2001, a day or so before my high school graduation. So I'm accustomed to what will happen. I've been told she's being given a morphine drip, so that she'll not be in any pain when she passes. I would like to write here about her life story, about what she did and how she lived, but I honestly don't know that much about what happened before I made the scene almost 22 years ago. From my own experience, I can recall everything, from treating her house (which is adjacent to mine, my parents having built on land that was given by my maternal grandfather) as though it were my own, to her always having a pot of Lipton soup for my sisters and I, on through discovering old porkpie hats and voltimeters in her basement, to shih-tzus and yorkie-mixes, to helping her across the short walk from my house to hers in the winter. When my grandfather passed away, my parents called my sisters and I to St. Margaret (UPMC) to say goodbye, where we stopped in for maybe 10 minutes, said goodbye and gave him one more hug and left. This time, I went alone before work last night. My family was gathered in the room, trying to keep the mood light by discussing whether or not they should boycott Tom Cruise's movies because he's insane. After about half an hour, I had to leave to get ready for work, and my family left me alone, which I hadn't expected. I was left to say my goodbyes to a grandmother that I've known all my life as well as I could know anyone, and all I could do is think of old memories while I held her hand. I talked about the christmases and easters at her house, the afghans and the little nursery rhymes she taught me in Polish that I can't quite remember now. I don't know how long I was there, maybe 10 minutes, before I worked up the courage to head out the door. She really was one of the most influential people I've ever known, and I wish I could express that more eloquently here.

That is done. I've written it, and now I've got to move on, in the blogging sense. I'll probably post something later on an entirely different topic. I'd like to state here that it isn't the case that I've moved on coldheartedly whenever I post again next, but that I've got to discuss something else and am dealing with what's going on beyond what I've said in this post in my own way. I'm sorry this isn't the most lighthearted thing you've read today, and in all likelihood, the last thing you wanted to read is the sad musings of a grandson, but there they are.

I'll definitely post later with something else, either analyzing the recent London attacks or Zach Duke's first home start. Or the progress of Bill C-38. Or my earring. Or something. Maybe a fish.