In a letter

(copied from a letter to Katiefu)

I feel so weird about all of this right now. First off, it really hasn't hit home yet. Nana had been kind of tucked away into a corner of my life for a while now, and it is so easy to just let myself think she is still living and breathing in that corner.
Another thing is that compared to my dad's dying, this death was so much easier to take. It was still very rough, but oh my, what a difference to mourn a 91 year old's death opposed to a 52 year old's. My dad's death felt so wrong, and Nana's felt so right. And I know that she had wished to die in her sleep. To watch her linger on this past week was painful for all of us. At one point, when we were turning her and I was cradling her head, she was no longer speaking, but she locked eyes with me and her eyes filled with tears. I took it to mean, "I wish this would all end" She hated to be fussed over on one hand. On the other, if she wasn't being fussed over, she'd make sure you knew it!
The night that I stayed with her, my heart hurt so horribly. And it felt like my heart took up my whole body. It reminded me of how raw I was during and right after my dad got sick and died. Once she was gone though, my heart no longer hurt like that. It still is broken, but to see her dying was much worse than having her die.
It's really kind of peaceful now. Maybe with the funeral and the days to come, it'll be more intense, but for today, it's peaceful. I was able to say my goodbyes. We each wrote her a card to put in her casket. Mine said, "Thank you." And that sums it up. I just feel so grateful. I feel sorry that my kids won't know her like I did. But at least she met them all, hugged them all, loved them all, AND I have the photos to prove it.
She didn't make it to Christmas this year and barely made it through Thanksgiving. I think that I knew back then.