August 24, 2002

I find myself reading the obituaries again today. As if I wouldn't know when.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. Maybe because I'm sad. Yeah, that's it. I don't feel sad, but I realize that I am.

My father said it after dinner yesterday, and I realized how much I missed her. I never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. My grandmother hasn't been conscious since september last year. Before that, she was just absent, but the last year, she hasn't even recognized her own daugher (my mother).

Last week, we think she had an embolism. I've visited her every other day since, even though she doesn't care - abbe does (abbe is faeroian for grandfather). I think he is coming to terms with it. They married in the thirties. I can't even think that far back, it doesn't make sense... Living that long with another person and then losing them. I can't think about that.

On the one hand, I wish for her to live forever, but I know that's not going to happen. On the other, I see abbe in pain and wish it would all just end right now. He misses her so much already. Today, he held her hand for 2 hours and she didn't show any signs of recognition.

I feel terrible. I hope abbe does alright, I really do. I love him, I love her. He told the same old story today, the story where I run towards him in huge boots, reaching above my knees. Red ones. Even though I'm a foot higher than him now, he still remembers how I ran in those boots, falling.

Mormor used to tell stories like that. I wish she still did.

Mom and dad have sort of accepted it, I think. They don't say it, but I get the impression they're waiting, now.

I miss her.

August 28, 2002

Grandma passed away today, six minutes to eight in the evening.

When I got home from work, I saw a note on the kitchentable and went over there immediately. Almost everyone was there. Their children, the children and spouses of those.

Her breath sounded like boiling water, I have never heard a worse sound in my life.

Abbe started crying, a thing I have never seen him do in my life, not even up to this. Shortly after, she took her last breath, as if she was waiting for that.

Almost symbolic how the churchbells started chiming as the realization hit us.

Ada Agnete Joensen (née Andersen)
March 14, 1914 - August 28, 2002

"Death? There are no fucking violins. There's just the terrible noise of a body fighting."
- Morten Sabroe, author

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