this afternoon, my grandma died.

she had been vomiting constantly for nearly a week. apparently, towards the end, it was primarily fecal matter, even though her stomach had been empty for quite a long time. because of the assumed blockage in the intestines, she had been given something to "irritate the bowels" and facilitate passage. unfortunately, one of the side-effects of this medication was arrhythmia, and this has been cited as one possible cause of what eventually occurred. of course, it could also have been that she had been so weakened and "poisoned" by the backflow.

i visited my grandma on thursday alone, and at that time had to wipe up some of her recent vomit. i spoke to her then, briefly. she seemed cogent but tired.

i visited my grandma again on friday, with the kids. i performed the sazuke on her (which she seemed to appreciate), while the kids drew pictures for grandma.

the weekend passed, and i was "busy" with easter things.

then, on monday night, at around midnight, my grandma coded. our family rushed over. by the time most of us arrived at the hospital, she had pulled through. however, her brush with death had not been without consequence. she was intubated and a central line was providing pressins to maintain her dropping blood pressure. a ventilator filled her lungs up like a balloon, and then she would collapse with each recoiled exhale. i remember touching her leg, and i recall her spasming after that. my brother took that as a good sign: spontaneous movement.

today was tuesday. i visited grandma at around noon. her situation was the same, but it was grim: ideally, her blood pressure should have stabilized, but it remained low, even with a large dose of vasopressins (?). my brother came in, explained a few things to me. he checked her pupillary response at one point, then mentioned to another doctor that things didn't look good (negative pupillary response: brain damage).

at around 3:30 pm, i got another call. my brother told me that she was coding again, and this time, it was likely to be the last...

***

my grandma... how can i explain what she was to me? i feel numb and dead. sometimes, like my grandma's depressed blood pressure, i want to stir myself up by feeling the only thing that i am passionate about: i tell myself how much i hate myself, for not feeling, for not ... but stubbornly, i return to this deadness, this hollow feeling. i felt myself reaching for memories to make me feel, to feel something, anything. why was i so cold and matter-of-fact about everything? but when i started to feel, when i started to cry, i began to hate myself more, because it seemed like i had to manipulate myself to even feel anything. my grandma was so much a part of my life- why didn't it hurt more? why didn't it make me ...

at the moment, i don't care much about anything. tired. but can't sleep.

my grandma wasn't supposed to die like this. i mean, i'm glad it was quick, but my grandma had a lot of years left in her. she was sharp, active. she had mentioned having a 90th birthday. it's not fair.

i keep thinking about her pulling me aside, having me sit beside her, so she could give me a sermon. i never really listened to her sermons. they seemed antiquated. but i listened to the love she felt, her constant unflagging support. i don't know what the world will be like for me now. it will be as though the earth beneath my feet has grown fragile and hollow. i don't think i can trust anything any more.

***

a collateral issue: as my grandma was dying, after her second code, i decided to pick my sister up. she was staying at a drug-court house, and she didn't have a car. i felt it was important that she get to say her goodbyes. my mom decided to come, even though i told her that her place was with her mother. anyway, we drove from pali momi to kalihi valley, and on the way back, fighting all that late afternoon traffic, we learned that my grandma was coding again. in fact, by 4:45, when we were still stuck, we learned that she was pretty officially dead.

i didn't really feel it, the regret, at not having been there. at least not then. neither did my mother. or, she hid it, pacified any regrets with verbal assurances, as though she were convincing herself. my brother felt real anger, that again, because of my sister, the family hadn't been together at this critical moment...

maybe it was a dumb idea. but i thought that, with all my sister's other regrets, this one would be a killer... to not be able to say goodbye.

lynn had been at the hospital at 4:45. she told me she spoke to my grandma for me, and i appreciated that...

i love my sister. i really miss her. things may be messed up, but i will always vouch for her. even if i do kill her relentlessly in my writings.

***

there are always consequences. but i don't care. i am falling off the edge of the world. no one really sees me anyway, me and my impotent compassion which is really a mask for sediment apathy. my heart is stone. and that stone is at the bottom of the sea. i am gentle with my wife and children, and with those i meet, but it is the gentleness of the dead man, it is the gentleness that arises from an inability to feel much of anything... again, the only thing that stirs me is the deep and original hatred i have always felt towards myself. a frustrated desire to not exist.

i will do right by my grandmother. i don't have a soul or a heart like she did, but i at least can try to help people as she did... relentlessly.