I drank so much coffee in the month of March. Started my day out with a coffee, sitting next to my grandmother’s bedside. Went through the day sipping on coffee. Slowly pumping more caffeine through my veins, coca cola, coffee, whatever I could get. It was almost like a coping mechanism… I could get through the next few hours if I just had a bit more coffee. Roll up the rim didn’t help.
I think that now I associate the taste of coffee with those long days in the villa, with low light and HGTV or Food network on in the background. Sitting next to my grama watching her go in and out of consciousness. Holding my breath when she held hers and hoping that this time wasn’t the last breath she took.
I wanted her to go while I was there, next to her, holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be okay. That didn’t happen. I think maybe that was her favour to me.
I have had one coffee since she passed, and it was a very small decaf. I can’t bring myself to drink coffee anymore.