|Original Picture taken from StockSnap|
Once I started going to elementary school, my mum and I moved into my grandparents' house. A few years later, my stepdad joined us. We were a perfect family with everyone living under the same roof. As I grew older, I realised that dying is just another part of life. A part, that it will happen to everyone some day. But still, I couldn't not imagine being in a world without my grandparents.
Then, at the beginning of 2014, my first grandmother died. Once a sophisticated and elegant woman, she died - her mind and body eroded by a brain tumor that had fed off of her for months.
At the end of 2014, my second grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. The following year was filled with doctor's appointments and hospital stays, radiation therapy and chemo. We were so happy when we thought that it was over, that she would be alright in the end.
Then, she had to go to the hospital again. They had found something else. And it had spread all the way to her lungs.
There was no way back.
She stayed at the hospital and never came back home. And every week I came to see her, watching her face becoming slimmer and slimmer, her hands shaky and her hair thin. Until she couldn't even get up anymore, her look spacy from the morphine and all those painkillers.
She spent her last week at a hospice specialized in taking care of AIDS- and cancer-patients at the end of their path.
She died on Tuesday at 9:45 p.m. surrounded by the people who love her.
Watching someone die is a scary experience. Hours of sitting and waiting. Listening to this heavy, rattling breath. The spasms. Then, the fingers start to turn blue ever so slightly. The gaze fixed at some point far away.
How fast a human body gets cold, once all life is sucked out of it.
A lifeless, but peaceful figurine made of wax.
To me, the term "loss" can not describe the feeling caused by this experience. You might lose your car keys or your favourite necklace, but not your loved ones. They are forcefully taken away, and there is nothing you can do about it, but accept. Accept and live with it.
You are left with a wound so, so deep, but the scar it leaves behind will be ever so precious to you, because it is filled with memories.
Her funeral will be next Friday.
And I can't wait for the wound to heal, so I can look at my beautiful scar.