Wednesday, August 20, 2008

When it's over

I look forward to change - once it happens I'm not usually thrilled with the result, but there's always the hope that it will be better, and sometimes it is, at least for a little while. But I wonder how I'll feel about death, when it looks like it's coming soon. It's not really change for the person who's dying - it's the end of change. It usually represents a big change for those left behind, though. Both of my paternal grandparents are nearing the end now; my grandmother has been unwell for years now and has made it clear that while she loves all of us, she's ready. But she's stuck in a hospital room attached to oxygen. Her husband of 71 years fell two weeks ago and broke his hip - since then he's been not in his right mind and is now refusing to eat. They are both in their 90s and have lived long and interesting lives, much longer than most. I was sad earlier thinking that when one of them goes the other one will likely not even be aware of it - but then realized it's probably better that way for them. It's only bad for those of us watching.

I don't know what to do about my moods - I'm angry, so angry I'm clenched and shaking, with chest pains, and then once that's over I'm crushed, just completely sad. I have no ambition and no direction, and neither of those things even seems like something I would want. This is why change is attractive to me: something new is always good when you don't have any real drive - when you have nothing to lose you don't really mind leaving things behind and starting fresh, because maybe this is where happiness finally lies ('lie' being the operative word there - you can't find happiness in a new place). But how long can I go on like this - and how long before the end of change starts to seem more attractive than yet more change itself? The drugs don't work.

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