My grandmother is on her last legs.
She has been plagued with Alzheimers for over two years now; the last time I was visiting Memphis and saw her, she didn’t even know who I was. So, her mind has been pretty far gone for a while now. Now her body is finally catching up to that state. She has been fighting some sort of respiratory infection for a couple of weeks and was finally admitted to the hospital a couple of nights ago with dangerously low O2 levels.
My aunt has been firm that there will be no heroic life-saving measures. They are simply using morphine to make her as physically comfortable as possible. Her breathing continues to slow and her O2 continues to drop, and it’s just a matter of time. Perhaps even tonight.
If I thought my presence would mean anything to her at all, I would rush back in a minute. But as it is, I have zero motivation to see her “one last time”. I have a whole catalog of fabulous memories of my grandmother. I do not need to dilute those with new memories of how she is right now. I did my mourning two years ago when I saw her last.
The only remaining question is whether I will go back for a funeral. It won’t do her any good, nor me. But I suppose it would mean something to the remaining family members, and that’s probably reason enough. But ooof, I sure don’t have any enthusiasm for it.