Raw emotions

We spent the morning and afternoon with my Grandmother today... I couldn't talk about it easily and am finding it hard to even write it. When we made it back to Mandy's folks house, her mom tried to ask me if Grandma was doing good still... All I could do was barely say "no" as those raw emotions grated at me like a million splinters being rubbed the wrong way. And of course "No" was not enough that leads to more questions. "The pain started 3 days ago" was all I could get out. Short sentences are fine but long converstations on it just can't happen.
2 of my aunts, my mom's sisters, were there this morning too. They both made mention that Grandma was in pain. It has started. Grandma herself even mentioned this 2 different times and was taking Tylonal as she didn't want to start taking the Dr's perscribed stronger stuff.
It is happening. Almost 2 months ago the Dr.'s all said she had 2 to 6 months to live...
Pain would be the first indication, and once it started it would progress very rapidly after that as the cancer is over her liver, lungs and other organs.
I spent much of the time today asking her questions about her parents and looking through old photo albums and obit. notices that her mother had clipped out. (For those who don't know I am a genealogist. I have over 25,000 names in my working tree, and can trace all the way back to the 500 A.D.'s on the Cecil line). She told me tales of her childhood and her siblings. Yet even 80 years later, some stories were too raw to talk about. Her Father had been married and his first wife died. He never spoke about it. We found this out later. Her mother's mother was married three times, and her mother had lived with many different families as a servant as her step fathers didn't wish her to be part of the family and the step sisters treated her as a "Cinder-ella".
Yet there are fun stories we talked more in depth about: Her father was a Boxer in early 1900's Chicago. "Kid" Martin was his boxing name. He also ran track. And he played on the Decature Staleys (Tanslation for those none Die Hard Sports fans: This was the forerunner to the Chicago Bears!). That was pretty neat in and of itself as my grandmother doesn't like to talk about her childhood.
So needless to say it was tough. But what got me was when my mother's youngest sister, the aunt that I has never fully seemed to get along with me, came over and with tears in her eyes thanked me for coming out just to see Grandma.
So which is better, to be here as I so want to be, to help out and to watch as she slowly slips into pain? Or to be 9 hours away and out of the picture except for once every few months visiting? If I could I would drop everything and move to Indiana right now, but that is not what God wants that is what Curtis wants.
So I have to just remember those fond moments I have had with Grandma and look forward with nerveous prayers and anticipation for our next visit in 3 weeks.
God, please help her in her pain and help me with mine.
"Lord I believe. Help my unbelief!"