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Sometimes We Grieve ...

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I am a fifty-nine-year old woman who lost her eight-four-year old mother on December 17 … she had called 911, to have the paramedics take her to Anaheim medical center, as she had so many times, but this time, the end result was different. She passed from this life to the next, to be with our lord, and my father, who had gone on nineteen-years before.

She had recently been diagnosed with dementia, which had totally changed her once “bouncy” personality, to that of an introverted, moody, mood swing-type. I had been her caregiver for fifteen years because of various physical disabilities, which included six failed knee surgeries on her left knee, which created the need for her to use a walker.

I am writing my story, not for myself, but for my thirty-five-year old daughter, who is a detective. She has taken her grandmother’s death so grievously, that she no longer cares much about anything. She has admitted to me just today … she “sees” grandma in everything she does … everything she eats, she thinks about what grandma would enjoy eating, etc. She even refused to take any of the certain items that grandma would’ve wanted her to have, other than a china hutch and an old desk of my father’s, because she can’t deal with her memory. Can someone please help my daughter? I’m certain that her grandma would not want her to grieve for her passing like this! This is my story, which, as yet, has no ending … just a beginning, and a middle … the end is yet to come …

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