Grief by Mimi Eileen Johnson

Grief. A small, one-syllable word that packs a formidable

 punch. No one escapes its grips; some are tortured their entire

 lives. How do I cope? Why the ebb and flow? How do I

 recognize it? Why did it resurface now? Will it ever stop

 aching? How do I recapture joy with this massive hole in my

 soul?

 On June 9, 2022, for the first time in my life, I lost one of the

 most important people, my grandmother.

She was no ordinary grandmother, she raised me, and we all

 lived together our entire lives. She and my mother grew up in

 Romania, under the insufferable communist regime. They both escaped and were able to build an

 amazing life in the U.S.  I was blessed to grow up bilingual and proud of my Romanian heritage.

   

It was an unbreakable bond that I have never shared with another person, not even my mother. Yes, my

mother and I have a special relationship, but my grandmother was my rock and my world. I watched her

take her last breath over FaceTime, not the way I had envisioned, but was thankful for technology

allowing me to see her one last time.

 

I was sheltered from death, never having anyone close to me pass away. Here I am,

staring at our matriarch, watching her transition into another form. In some ways, it was the most

peaceful experience, especially in lieu of her suffering, but I felt as if I had died right beside

her. I remember hanging up the phone and feeling as if I was having an out-of-body experience. I had

never felt anything like that in my life and I had no idea how to process the information. I sobbed and

sobbed, not fully understanding or processing what I had just watched. That's it? She is gone. Why?

What do I do now? I was attempting to process my thoughts, but I could not, I was frozen, I could

not move, and although I knew I was grieving, I still did not understand the reactions and what I was 

feeling.

So now I am just supposed to go on living without her? How did this happen so fast? More questions

entered my mind as more time elapsed. I felt as if I did not have a right to breathe air anymore because

my beloved grandmother could not either. I battled with my faith in God and was cursing him for taking

her away from me. How could you? Why her and why now? I then realized that my thoughts and

actions sounded a bit selfish. I needed to stop and ask myself what was best for my grandmother and

not my selfish need to keep her here on Earth. I couldn’t help myself, grief makes you inadvertently

selfish.

 

She endured eight years of torture in a nursing home in Northern Virginia. In the beginning I was going

 to see her every single day, ensuring she was never alone, always having a familiar face, and bringing

 all the drinks and foods that reminded her of home. My mother and I were a team that ensured no harm

or neglect would come to her. Unfortunately, in those few times we were not able to go every single

day, the maladies began.

 

Patients with dementia can never fully recall what has happened to them, their reality is fragmented.

There was also the issue of the language barrier. She is Romanian and speaks no English. All

communications happened through me or my mother. If I had to pinpoint the beginning of my grief, at

the time, unbeknownst to me, it would be in 2014, feeling helpless and relying on the hands of strangers

to love and protect my grandmother. At the time, I didn’t realize I was grieving, that little chips of my

existence and my soul were being taken at the sight of so much suffering and pain, not only of my

grandmother, but those around her as well.

 

I am what they call an Empath, I feel energies everywhere and absorb it, whether good or bad. Over

time, I have learned how to shield myself from negative energies, but when surrounded by so much

sorrow and pain, it can take over your mind and body quickly, yet I could not forsake my grandmother

 and leave her without me and my close care. I knew which people were good and which were bad,

 therefore, keeping a keen eye and establishing the right relationships to ensure great treatment. As time

progressed, I channeled my grief into attempting to help those in her nursing home who had no families.

I grieved for them and the wonderful lives they had lived. They were now emaciated, shrouded in

horrible rheumatoid arthritis, withering away as if their lives were never important. When my

grandmother would nap, have a bath, or eating, I would mosey down the hall to visit some of her

wonderful neighbors. I was able to provide comfort to their inevitable deterioration, sometimes not

knowing how impactful it was to their lives or how important it was to my reconciliation with grief and

death.

 

I would have dreams, flashing forward 40 years, when I would need the help and assistance of others.

Could I live in a tiny room like this and be forgotten by everyone? Why does our culture do this to the

elderly? Why is it so expensive to take care of ourselves in the twilight of our lives? Although I knew I

could not predict my own future, I knew I could impact lives in the present.

 

As I was unknowingly grieving for my grandmother’s natural deterioration, I was slowly finding joy in

spending quality time with others who were being forgotten. I wanted them to be remembered, even if I

was the only person on the planet that cared. I listened to countless stories, some about war, others about

 exquisite trips, fashion, happiness, raising families, and the light it brought to their lives was priceless. I

 never knew if the stories were true or not, but in that moment, they were real to them.

In my mind, it was a race against time: I could somehow prevent her from dying if I lived and breathed

that nursing home. How silly of me, right? My selfish grief and attitude convinced me that I

could prolong death. I was on pins and needles every day for 8 years. Every time my mother and I

received a call we would jump and were ready to battle for her life! It was exhausting, but again, I never

realized that was all part of grieving. Your mind cannot reconcile anyone being gone from existence, so

therefore, you try to perform these grandiose feats to prolong their lives.

 

Of course, in the end, nature won the fight, at the hands of irresponsible humans, and we lost her.

Even at 90, she had an amazing will to live. It did not matter what pain or condition was plaguing her,

she always chose life and smiled. She was my hero, and I aspire to be happy like her each day. At the

end, she died due to negligence; from an ordinary UTI that was not treated. The devastation was

insurmountable. I could not wrap my head around this ridiculously simple ailment taking her life. Here I

entered the next stage of grief - anger.

 

I felt a rage that I had never experienced before. I was obsessed with destroying the nursing home and

the staff that neglected her to the point of death. How many more people had their lives end so

tragically and abruptly at the hands of massive incompetency? How could medical professionals let that

happen? Isn’t their oath to “do no harm”?

 

I continually grieved for my grandmother and for others who lost their lives in that nursing

home due to medical neglect, but also lamented the future. Is this what we all have to look forward to?

 Being isolated in a cement room and being treated like someone who does not matter? Someone

 neglecting a urine sample for six months and me dying of a simple UTI, meeting the same fate as my

 grandmother? This simply cannot be! How can I go through this torture again with my mother and

 stepfather?

 

The simplest answer to all my questions is that nature will always win the race no matter how well you

pace your existence. Grief does not happen to people, it is innately engrained in our psyche. It is the

vessel in which we can keep our sanity and continue to live our lives, working through complex

emotions, helping others, and continuing to be good people. I often saw grieving as a weakness, yet.

after experiencing the worst grief of my life, I realize the immense strength it provides in times of

struggle.

 

Now, slightly over a year later, my grief is ever present in each day of my life. I look forward to

experiencing the tears; ironically, it is when I feel most alive! I continually look for signs that my

grandmother is with me, and she never lets me down! She is present in every facet of my life.

Nature and time are the ultimate grim reapers, but only in the physical form. Energy lasts forever. And

 her energy glows in our hearts, in birds, butterflies, and the sunshine bathing her favorite flowers, roses

 and geraniums.