A month or two ago, I wrote a blog post about my maternal grandmother’s upcoming birthday. If I recall, I wrote about how I had only recently began becoming close to her and developing a loving relationship…I was worried that she was not going to be around much longer…
She died last night.
It may be incredibly heartless that I am blogging at a time like this, but I needed a release. I was woken up at 5 am with a tearful call from my mother as she left the hospital. Grandma Judy had been hit by a car around 10:30 pm, crossing the street to get on a bus. She walked out into the street in front of an oncoming car. She suffered major head injuries, along with both arms being broken and her hip being broken in four places. She was unconscious by the time police arrived on scene and she was airlifted to Jackson Memorial Hospital.
Sher did not regain consciousness. She was pronounced dead around 2 am.
What was she doing out so late at night, catching a bus on a busy street? She had just come back from Walmart in Florida City, which is about an hour away by bus…she went for a sausage on a stick.
My grandmother was kooky. Regardless of her ill health, her deteriorating eye sight, or the numbness in her feet, she let nothing hold her back. She refused offers for rides to wherever she wanted to go. She took the bus all over Miami. She walked. She rode her bike all over the place, french braid in her hair, pink blazer over her shoulders.
She was such a character.
The family home has been a flurry of family members, my grandmother’s friends, neighbors, church members, etc, coming to give their sympathies, cry with us and hug us. There’s food covering every surface of the kitchen table, kitchen counters and coffee tables. There are pictures being looked at, stories being told, millions of tears being shed.
Its been a long day.
I know that death is a part of life, and I thought I have been preparing for this day due to her health issues…
But I am still heartbroken, lost and sad. Nothing we can do will ever prepare us for this day.
Rest in Peace, Grandma Judy. I’ll miss you.