Sadness and laughter

On my last day of work before going on maternity leave I got all teary eyed when a colleague gave me a present for our little girl. It reminded me of all the good advice my grandmother tried to give me yesterday evening. She isn't doing well and asked the doctors not to do anything for her anymore. At the age of 95 her life has been enough for her and she doesn't want to become a burden to any of us. I wished she could still see Little Bit, her third great-grandchild. I wished we could still talk like we did last week on Saturday, when she was relatively well, but suffering from an abscess on her tooth. Instead I cried when she told us to take good care of the children and be friendly with each other. She had a hard time expressing how she felt, but got there nonetheless and knew who she was talking to.

Today my head was filled with so much sadness that every time someone wished me well, and asked me to let them know about the baby, I nearly cried again. It is strange though how all these feelings tend to go into the extreme. Though inside I cry the silliest things make me laugh out loud. Even this timing has a strange comic side to it: while I'm waiting for new life, Gran waits for death to come and claim her.