this is the time of year where I'm perpetually tired because the lack of sunlight in the morning does nothing for my waking-up ability. hence, I spend a lot of my day trying to keep my eyes open in front of a computer screen. it's difficult.

I talked to uncle on IM last night and he told me my grandfather's not doing too well. I knew this, and we talked about it for a little while. they've moved my grandfather to a retirement home because he's deteriorated to the point that my grandmother simply can't handle him any more. he would fall down at home and stay on the ground for hours because he refused to get up and my grandmother couldn't even begin to struggle with his weight. she'd have to call one of my uncles to come help her out. he started hiding things around the house, refusing to eat, and in general just being completely unmanageable due to the dementia and the lymphoma eating away at his person. it looks like it's just a waiting game at this point, which is very upsetting. apparently my grandmother recently called each of her 7 children and asked them whether they wanted him to have a feeding tube if he stopped eating, whether they wanted him to be put on a respirator if he stopped breathing...I hope my parents designate what they want in that regards before their time comes because making those decision with the clock running must be horribly painful.

I told my uncle that I'd be freaking out if it was my father going through all that. not that it's any easier when it's a grandfather, but there are different degrees of closeness when it comes to situations like this. he agreed it's been difficult facing mortality, which prompted me to move the discussion to my paternal grandparents' deaths and how they represent a turning point in my life. my grandmother died from complications during an operation to remove a tumor from her brain right before I turned 12. then, two years later, my grandfather committed suicide after he learned he had terminal lung cancer. I was convinced that I was partially responsibile for my grandmother's death because I'd often imagined, prior to the operation, what it would be like if she died. it took me at least a year to get over that feeling of guilt, as ridiculous as it sounds now. then when my grandfather took his own life I was confronted with a whole new set of horrible feelings.

the pain of losing both of these people at such a young age was a pain and a reality I'd never known before. it made me never want to feel that pain again and subsequently prevented me from developing an immediate or deep closeness with people in my life. it was as if a hardness came over me. I think that habit has stuck with me as I've matured, and I'm not quite sure how to address it. but I believe I've gotten better about it over the past few years. I'm sure there have been myriad other effects of which I am unaware, but delving into a deep psychoanalysis right now isn't necessarily advisible. it's amazing to me that my father didn't turn into a total basket-case after the death of each of his parents. especially after his father's death.

at any rate, the loss of my parents is a great fear of mine. if I were in my mother's shoes, or my uncle's shoes, or my father's shoes 13 years ago, I just wouldn't know what to do with myself.