I've been listening to music.
I've been striking up conversations.
I've been avoiding any sort of reality.
Because....
My grandpa is dying.
Fading away from the vital jokes and squishy hugs.
Lying in his bed with his brown skin turning pale as the pages of a book.
That is nearing its end..

I've been walking around aimlessly remembering the time, when I went through the same thing with my grandmother.
Visiting in the night, on the day..
that they'd pull the plug on the machines that were keeping her alive.

She was in so much pain for so long...
For months it was inevitable,  yet
that big heart of hers wasn't enough to fight another hour.
Disgusted with myself because I was praying that she wouldn't die on my birthday.
Because I'd hate the thought of living after then if she did.
Selfishly not considering the pain she was in all along.

Her lungs were failing as a tube made a temporary home in her throat so she could breathe...
Her heart was failing and her doctor  was kind.
Trying to ease her passing and made sure she was alive until all of us made it there to:

How sick is this...

For us to, "see her off"

Her skin turned yellow and empty like a living corpse...and her breathing was helped by a mask.

As the minutes went on.
And I told the current event to my friends in different time zones...they let me bare my tears across a small screen as I'd write to them with blurry eyes and a heavy heart.

I never knew that knowing when someone you loved die could damage you so thoroughly.
Friends staying awake to 6 AM.

And when she has minutes left on her clock.
That painful silence..
Was the sound of a broken heart..not like glass..but an agonized scream inside.
Unable to openly mourn for her you lean against the wall and cry until rivers grew jealous.