My beloved grandmother, The Cougar, is passing away.
She tripped and fell 3 weeks ago.
No one knows why, but she just isn't pulling through.
One thing led to another and things have progressed very quickly.
A woman who was in good health, and her usual spunky attitude, just 4 short weeks ago at Kid's birthday party is now on hospice.
It's been an overwhelming shock and hard to comprehend.
I believe that her strong faith in an afterlife with her husband and parents and friends that have passed on before her is a comfort to her and that she yearns to join them and end her pain and suffering.
We had a close relationship both when I was a child and recently as an adult.
She was an avid blog reader and enjoyed her Cougar fame.
Mr F lived with her for several months when we were stuck in NC selling our house, firmly cementing her crush on him.
Just a month ago she was making us gag and laugh with her sexually inappropriate comments towards him.
Now we are driving up to say goodbye.
Because she was a young grandmother (only just 82), and a constant larger than life presence at all our family functions and summer vacations, my girls have always considered her their grandmother, not my grandmother.
This is the first death of a loved one they will remember.
Kid is devastated.
Baby is nervously pretending that she doesn't hear us.
I'm trying to get this right.