(no subject)

::sigh::

I just had to do one of the most dificult things I've ever done in my life.

I had to box up Grandma's clothes for the Salvation Army.

She died 2 years ago, but Mom had been unable to do it, and didn't let us do it either. About 2 or 3 weeks ago, she said to me that I had to do it, since she couldn't possibly do it herself. She still breaks down in tears when she thinks of 'Buela.

I had asked my sister to help me, but I let her go do some errands... I knew she wouldn't be able to handle it. I consider myself (and I know my sis, Bebi, thinks so too) one of the emotionally strongest sibling of us 5. And I still broke down in tears when I got to her favorite shirt.

And for the life of me, I couldn't box up her knitted shawl. That was her 'jacket'... it was her favorite and whenever it was cold, she had it on. It's still safely tucked away.

My chest aches, you know?

I've always felt guilty, since they gave us the news she was dead. Because the last few months she spent them in a home... and I can count on one hand the times I visited her there. I hadn't seen her for about a week or two before she died.

I used to see her almost every day.

I've never told this to anyone in my family, it's not their burden, nor should they try to make me feel better. What I did was wrong. I just... hated to see her in that bed, in that home. I always said no when Mom wanted me to go with her to see 'Bueli. I guess, if I were to say why I did that, I never wanted to remember her like that. See her like that.

I gotta go, Mom just got here and she had some implants done in her mouth, so she's hurting. Gotta give her meds.