when the end feels near…
…even 3-year-olds feel it.
Yesterday I told M we were going to visit Gigi, that she’s sick and in the hospital. She said, “Again??” Then a few minutes later she piped up from the backseat, “Grandpa died. He went to the hospital then he died.” Yes. She understands.
I’m still working because I have one call-in left before I get in big trouble. So I’m trying to save it for like, M being in the hospital or myself puking or something. But I’m trying to get someone to pick up some shifts so I can be there to help decide what to do. I know she’s not going to be here for long, but I’m worried that she isn’t getting enough for her pain and discomfort. I feel I have to be the one to make sure she isn’t suffering.
Lying in bed listening to the rain last night, I felt that I can never be enough for anything. I’m not “enough” for my daughter. I’m not “enough” for my grandma. They both need more of me. My job needs more of me. My mother needs more of me. My house and property need more of me. My cats need more of me. My self needs more of me. I can’t meet the needs of even a single one of the above.