the beginning and the end...

my grandmother is dying. technically, she's been dying for a year or so now. but now she is in the final stage. my mother and i are taking shifts so that one of us is with her at all times. i'm sitting here, with the buzz of of her oxygen, and the irony is overwhelming. as a machine facilitates her last breaths, i am unable to rest as my unborn child is so active today. one life on it's way out, another ready to begin. i find myself brushing back her hair or offering ice or just watching her sleep, wondering how many times she did the same for me as a child. when my parents divorced, my mom and i moved in with my grandma for a time. she's always been more of a second mother than a grandmother. she cared for me for so many years and now it is my turn to do the same for her. there is something so bittersweet about being a part of the end of her life while awaiting the birth of my last daughter. it grieves me that this baby will never have known her. she will never have gone to grandma june's for a tea party. she won't have played in the doghouse in her yard or been snuck cookies when i'm not looking. she won't know that her mommy and her grandma and her great grandma all have the same hands and the same smile. she'll never know that grandma june was one of the smartest woman i've ever known. she'll see pictures and hear stories, that may or may not be signifigant to her. when she's older she may want to know more about our family's history. but her only memories will be those of stories passed down. just as i never knew my great grandmothers, she will never know hers. what will remain is the traits and quirks and stories and traditions that have passed from grandma to my mother to myself to my children. and as one life ends and another begins, the cycle continues.