The problem with keeping a blog is that I have to feel like blogging. And if I don't feel like blogging, I don't. And if I don't blog, then the feelings I felt at any certain time slowly become more and more vague. And it's unfortunate, because I want to remember how I felt exactly...but vaguely remembering will have to do.

On Easter, I get a text from my sister Connie that my grandma's in the hospital and it's serious. I go to visit my grandma in the hospital the next day and she was the most vibrant and awake I have seen her in the past 2 years. She recognized me, she was talkative, and she was very aware of what was going on. She randomly gave me advice on borrowing money and told Connie stories of how she didn't want to give any of her money to the Viet Cong. The doctor told our family she had one week to live. Her colon had been infected beyond repair and she wouldn't survive surgery. So all we can do is wait. When I heard that she had one week to live, the news didn't process. I didn't understand that my grandma was only going to be alive for one more week and I also didn't believe it. Well my instincts served me right. She's still alive today, but we're still waiting. It's been over a month since we were told she had one more week, so I don't know exactly what we're waiting for. Well maybe I do know and I just can't say it. Funeral plans have been discussed already.

I'm trying to express my emotions here, but it's difficult. I haven't seen her in nearly 3 weeks, I must see her this weekend. It's hard to see her in pain. I want so much to help her, but there's nothing I can do. All I can do is visit her and I definitely will this weekend. Though it's selfish, I like that I live an hour away from my family. The pain is easier to deal with, easier to ignore. But I'm ashamed that I've ignored it too much. My older sister Helen is my grandma's caretaker. And though she hasn't achieved success in her life in the traditional sense, caring for my grandma makes her a much stronger person than I am.