My grandma was hospitalized in early April. My family and I weren't too bothered; Grandma had been hospitalized quite often in the years since her younger brother's death, which pushed her into a state of apathy towards life in general. Yet every time she was hospitalized, she looked Death in the eyes and said: "I don't think so. Not today."

While my grandma was recovering from pneumonia, I traveled to Austria. Slovakia. Ireland, Nothern Ireland, Belgium. While I was in Belfast, my parents were called into the hospital to say goodbye to grandma. But once again, grandma looked Death in the eyes and said: "I don't think so. Not today."

May rolled around. I spent a weekend in Ghent with Ella from Ella Was Here. I woke up in the early hours of Saturday morning, thinking there was something wrong with Grandma. My parents didn't call me though, so that night I watched the Eurovision Songfestival with Ella as if nothing serious was going on back home. Australia's song struck a chord with me. Its lyrics were based on the singer's experience with postpartum depression. "It feels like zero gravity". In the weeks that followed, that line would describe my entire emotional state.

My grandma turned 86 on May 19th. She'd been transferred to a hospice three weeks earlier, her health deteriorating every day. I refused to say goodbye to her on her birthday, although grandma had already made up her mind. "You guys have to clean up well today," she told us, "because I won't be here tomorrow."

The next day, my grandma passed away. She passed away in the town where she was born, on her own terms, on the day she had in mind. And we were left behind. I cried in lectures. I missed seminars. I addressed almost 50 envelopes with mourning cards. I arranged the pictures for the funeral. I wrote a eulogy. I did more to organize the funeral than my family had expected. I floated through the days. It did indeed feel like zero gravity.

Time stood still for me, but moved on swiftly for everyone else. I remember standing next to grandma's coffin, more than 80 pairs of eyes on me as I read the eulogy out loud. I remember my nose starting to drip and tears streaming down my face as I told about grandma singing me songs about horses and saying "So!" when she was proud of me. I remember falling sick after the funeral. I remember breaking down from exhaustion.

Three weeks after the funeral, I was far behind on all my university assignments. Once I'd finished those, I finally had time to cry and mourn. It didn't help much. My grandma and I had a strained relationship. She never truly acknowledged my achievements, instead changed the topic to those of my cousins. I never truly tried to connect with her, because she preferred my cousins anyway, I thought.

Almost all of June was spent in my zero gravity state. I was angry. I tried to forgive my grandma for the way she'd treated me, because I know she was a product of her time. But I spent nights crying and asking an empty room why, just why couldn't she tell me that she was proud of me, that she loved me, that I mattered. Why?

I crashed down to earth after handing in my final university assignment. It signaled the end of the ordeal that started in April. So here I am now, not knowing how to start over again, where to go, or how to deal with all the unresolved issues that grandma left me with. I guess, as always, that this just means I'll continue posting on my blog to escape life. I guess, for now, that that'll do.