Waiting...

As a quick update, late October my Grandma Smith died. And to say the least it was a shock, she may have been 85 but she bowled with best of them, and was planning on bowling in a tournament a week later. But the stroke got to her first.The stroke knocked her down early on sunday morning, when we had plans to visit her by that night we found she was paralysed on one side and was unable to talk. The next morning she passed away in her sleep. And her life became our life. My grandpa, who had suffered a Ceribral Hemerige (sorry on the spelling) that caused short term memory loss, was now living with us. You know the hardest thing you will ever have to do is repeat the scene, of telling someone the love of there life passed away, every 5-10 minutes for the next 4 monthes. Until the memory of an emty space starts to fade away. Now he only wonders in brief instances.
But what is even harder is living with an ornery old man who doesn't like pets, or at least our pets in a househols with 4 cats and a dog, and then have him threaten to beat them, then argue with him and then have him angry the rest of the day because he doesn't know why you were arguing with him.
And then there are the semi normal days when he is feeling gracius and doesn't argue, loves everyone, and preaches like he is god.
Oh did I mention the diapers, always wet. and him refusing to acknowledge that he's wearing them while your changing them.
Or the fact that every few months he goes through spells, where he isn't really conscious, his eyes roll back, his muscles freeze up, and you have to talk him out of it while he has a major bowel movement, and starts to puke mostly because of the smell. And on top of that these "spells" are becoming more and more frequent. I think the last 2 were no more than a week and a half apart. That' got to be recking havick on his body.
And now this is where we're at now almost 6 monthes after my grandma death, and our lives are still stuck back in November.
Oh and another thing since no one will ever read this, my aunts are fucking bitches who wouldn't understand what we've had to go through, even if they were there to see it with there own eyes. They wouldn't understand and never will, and they insult us at every turn, our opinion doesn't matter, but let me talk about the stress of my work while you take care of my father. Let me insult your coffee while there are guests and there already drinking it. Then talk to you and take up your time and add more of a burden instead of helping. Let me make you feel like an idiot while your doing what you know how to do. Let me me not show compasion and understanding when you are so distress. Let me charge you for taking care of my father and saving me money while you kill yourself with the stress...

Sometimes I can't take this this existance, this isn't living. Living is being out there experiencing life not stuck in one room of the house doing nothing and rotting away in my own flesh, while LIFE passing me by.
I'm sick of waiting for life, and... I don't know how to live life anymore...
So that's where I am stuck in place in my senior year of high school struggling to stay afloat not wanting to go home knowing I have to and finally being able to understand the word free.

Free- Those brief moment when your home alone, somewhere you feel safe with no worries, nothing to do, and you just sit there letting it sink in. That's when I feel truely free.

What would your definition be?