Airman, please don’t beat yourself up. You’re far, far too good and sweet to feel so horrible.
You and your grandmother are in my thoughts and prayers. 
Condolences Airman. My grandmother died just a few weeks ago. For her it was a long decline, including dementia and other problems.
I could never be a surgeon for reasons similar to yours, but I feel lucky to be fighting cancer by working on software that assists in the planning and simulation of radiation therapy. A cure for cancer is far far away, and sometimes I feel like treatment is only a single step above using leeches, but there is progress being made (even by the sqeamish).
That being said, we all die (as you noted), with or without a doctor. I think it’s more important for each of us to be a good person and to care about the people we love. Though you couldn’t extend your grandmother’s life, it sounds like you made it a happier one while she was here. That’s pretty important in my book.
Though I know that doesn’t make the separation (or seeing her in pain) much easier, I think the world is more in need of caring individuals than doctoring skills. Best wishes.
All I can say is I’m sorry. Cry when you want to, and hold onto each other. Let Aaron comfort you. He’s too little to understand, but he’s old enough to love you both. And holding a little one is a wonderful thing.
I will pray for you all, and I hope things ease for you soon.
I am simply overcome with grief right now. I thought that drinking in her memory would help. It hasn’t.
Maybe one day I’ll get a grip. Today is not that day.
All I can do is give her a benediction, one that my other Grandmother (who I have to watch die next) uses before every meal during Grace:
St. Patrick, pray for us, eternal rest grant unto Grandma, oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon thee. May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace, Amen.
Finally, her suffering is ended. Mine is not nearly over. I have two grandparents left, in addition to my mother, father, two sisters, wife, and son, in addition to four uncles, five aunts, and three cousins. Mine is a tight-knit family, and I just don’t know how much more of this I can bear.
It’s enough to make me wish that I go before all of them so I don’t have to suffer as much as they will.
I cannot imagine the pain you must be feeling, and I won’t even pretend to. I just wanted to say again how so very sorry I am that you must go through this.
All of my best thoughts to you and your family.
Airman, it never gets easy. I know it seems like nothing will ever be good again, but this will pass. I am the voice of experience here; I’ve lost most of my relatives, at least the ones I knew growing up.
You have my sincerest condolences, and hopes that you will find peace in your heart.
Get a grip AD. I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way. Now is the time for you to reach for your personal resolve and attend to business.
You can lead your family in this time of trouble by celebrating your grandmother’s life and advising others to celebrate with you. I know mourning is in order but if your grandmother brought your family joy then contemplating her life should bring smiles to the faces of the family.
I’ve seen the way that you write here and I know that you have the capability to infect emotions on your audiance. Use that capability to sooth your family.
My condolences, Airman - I am holding your family close in my thoughts…I wish I could do something to help - if there is, please email me.
Airman you need the time to cry now.
The best thing about Grandmothers dying is this…They didn’t die when they were mums. She got to see her child have children and then see her grandchild have a child. Could any of us ask for more life then that?
She’s your grandma. Seeing her go closes a chapter of your life. But it was a good chapter. I’m sure we all want to see our children happy, then our grandchildren.
Your grandma saw good things.
Oh Airman, trust me please when I say I know how you feel, no wait, I know how you Mother feels. As you know my Mom just left us and it is hard.
All I can say is that I am sorry and I am here if you guys need me.
Airman, I lost my maternal grandmother three years ago, and my paternal grandparents have both been ill for awhile - I’m expecting the call any day now to tell me we’ve lost one of them. It sucks, and I know it’s a part of life, but it sucks - there’s no denying that.
My maternal grandmother passed away before my brother’s wedding or my wedding. When she died, I was shocked at the amount of loss I felt - we’d never been incredibly close, although my whole family is VERY close. I discovered that I was grieving more for what my family had lost - for my mother, who now had no living parents (she does have her wonderful stepfather), and for my future children, who’d never know her.
What I’m trying to say is to let yourself grieve. And then when you can start to see some of the good sides of life again, tell Aaron about her - make sure he grows up knowing how you felt about your grandmother. And every time that little guy smiles at you, let yourself feel the same happiness that I’m sure your grandmother felt when you smiled at her.
I know it sounds like a lot of support group nonsense, but it’s the little things that help us get through. I know they’ve helped me. And of course, you and your family are in my thoughts and have my sincerest condolences.
Ava
Airman, I posted the following in Ayesha’s thread about her mother:
This applies to you and your grandmother as well. We are with you.
Are you kidding me? You would rather have Aaron lose you to release yourself from grief? What about his grief, and how will Robin deal with your early demise that you wish for? As much pity as you feel for yourself, can you not think about your child, a young child who will grow up without a father? I thought you were a man of higher standards. I am surprised and disappointed.
Prayers for you, Dave.
My prayers go out to you and your family, Dave.
This is something I almost always say to people who are going through what you are currently going through—eventually, missing your loved one will become bittersweet.
You’ll never, ever forget them, but eventually you’ll be able to remember them, and talk about them, and feel a sweetness through your tears. The sweetness of so many beautiful memories. You’ll feel a sweetness when you’re able to talk about the lost loved one with someone else who loved them and knew them too. The bittersweet tears will feel good in a way, because they mean that the loved one is always going to be alive in your heart, and your love for them has not faded with the years.
I lost my dad some years ago and I took it really hard. REALLY hard. And I’ll never really get over it—not really. Nobody does. But this “bittersweet” thing really is true, and you know, it is eventually a comfort of sorts.
Another thing I always say to people who are grieving is this: take it easy on yourself. Take it easy. It takes time. Don’t push yourself too much to “snap out of it.” When you try to do that, you just make things worse for yourself. Just take it easy. Seriously. Take it easy.
Take the good days and the bad days as part of the grieving process, and remember to give yourself time. However you feel, whatever you feel, it’s usually all part of the normal part of grieving.
My prayers are definitely with you.
Look. It was late, I was drunk and depressed, and I was being selfish. I think you can forgive me a few ill-advised statements given the circumstances.
Anyway, today was easier, but tomorrow (or this evening, rather) and Wednesday will be tough again. Tuesday is the wake and Wednesday is the funeral, and Pop (my grandfather) asked me to be a pallbearer.
Just a few more days to go. Nevertheless, life goes on.
I think that late, drunk, depressed and selfish at some point or another is something many of us can relate to.
Take it easy.
Airman this certainly transcends any differences we’ve had. My thoughts are with you and the family during this painful chapter in your life. Be well friend.
The other alternative to that is for Aaron to die first, something no parent should ever want. Losing family members like grandparents and parents is somewhat easier than losing younger family members purely because we know that they are older than us and we expect them to go first.
You’re being very unfair here. Doors is not talking about dying tomorrow, I’m sure, and he’s certainly not going to wish the death of his own son and wife. He’s thinking about things the way they are supposed to go. When Aaron is all grown up, many years in the future, it’s certainly most likely that Doors will pass away before Aaron does. I’m sure that my grandmother and my parents feel the same way that Doors does. They’d rather never have to bury me, but that also means I will bury them. It will hurt, but that’s what’s supposed to happen.
Doors: When I was fifteen years old, I found out that my grandfather had cancer and had refused treatment in order to die on his own terms. For eight months, I spent nearly every afternoon talking to him and writing down his life story. He had agreed to do so for his own reasons, I’m sure, but the opportunity existed because of a history project in high school. I wrote what he said, even when it wasn’t flattering, and I turned it into my project. Two weeks after the paper was returned to me, he passed away. At his funeral, I read the last thing he’d said to me about his life. It was the hardest thing I think I’d ever done, and at that point in time I didn’t think I could go through it. You will find strength you may not know you had, and you will find tears you did not know you could cry. You will get through the wake, and the funeral, I know you will. I’ve met few really good people in my life, and you are on that short list. Most importantly, remember that everyone grieves differently and there is no ‘right way’ or ‘schedule’ for going on with your life.
Your grandma was a lucky woman to have such a thoughtful, selfless and caring grandson. My sympathies are with you and your family.
RIP Airman’s Grandma.
In a few months you’ll be able to smile at a memory. Until then, take a day at a time.
You were a good grandson to her. Take pride in that. So many people live and die alone. She was surrounded by people who loved her and cherished her up until the day she died. How wonderful for her.