Well, I’ve gone back and forth about whether to post. I wanted to vent a little, but I’ve been subjecting you to my personal drama for several days so far and didn’t want to wear out my welcome.

I have finally given in to my need to vent. Skip it if you find it tedious; I won’t be in the least offended.

It’s obviously been a tiring several days. On Wednesday, I had to go straight from work to Nashville to listen to the short list finalists to give the lay sermon at Annual Conference. Last year, I was the first lay speaker to preach at Conference, and so this year I was on the selection committee.

I didn’t get home from Nashville until 10 p.m., and I had a message to call my father. Knowing that it might be about my hospitalized grandmother, I called him. He told me the prognosis was bleak, and the doctors had given her two weeks at the most.

Within the next two weeks, I’m supposed to be a part of our training weekend for the Kenya trip, so I immediately e-mailed the folks at LEAMIS to apprise them of the situation.

I went in to work as normal on Thursday. Again, I had to leave for Nashville right after work — in this case, because my parents had given me their tickets for Thursday night’s Nashville Symphony concert, after I mentioned that my boss had expressed an interest in seeing the symphony in a more classical context than the recent Shelbyville concert.

We were trying to find a space in the parking garage when my sister called. I called her right back after parking, and she gave me the news that Grandmother had taken a turn for the worse and wasn’t expected to make it through the night. As I blogged, John and I stayed and took in the concert. On the drive home, we talked about my feelings towards my grandmother and towards the transition that comes with losing the last of a generation.

First thing this morning, about 7 a.m., I called my father. He told me that Grandmother had made it through the night; he said there might be many more such scares and false alarms, and that he would probably try to discourage my mother from staying at the nursing home 24 hours a day, lest she make herself sick.

When Dad called me back at 10 or 10:30, it was a different story. Dad was at the nursing home with Mom and Grandmother, and things looked serious. He asked if I could pick up a chicken snack wrap at McDonald’s about 12:30 and bring it to my mother for lunch. He didn’t want to leave them.

I got to the nursing home about 12:20, with Mom’s lunch and my own. (Dad wasn’t hungry.) Grandmother had an oxygen mask and her breathing was labored, as Dad had warned me before I even entered the room.

We sat and ate our lunches and watched “Home Improvement” reruns on TBS.

Not long before 1 p.m., Grandmother’s breathing became less labored — but Dad detected that it was also stopping from time to time. Within a few minutes, she had slipped away.

“Tell everyone we said hello,” Dad said to her, and that was when my eyes started to water.

Mom was emotional, naturally, at that moment, and I think I was more shaken by seeing her grief than by the event itself. But she has taken it very well, and she knows that Grandmother is in a better place. Mom remarked several times that she’s been reunited with Grandfather, who died the year before I was born.

The nurses came in, and then it was just a matter of waiting for the funeral home to arrive. My father works part-time for this funeral home. I went outside the front door of the nursing home and called my siblings. Mom and Dad eventually joined me and we waited outside for more than an hour, occasionally trying to call this or that friend or family member. I e-mailed a cousin from my cell phone with a message to call Dad as soon as possible.

Eventually, the funeral home came, and took Grandmother away. The nursing home people had told us we could wait a few days to clean the room out, but Mom and Dad wanted to go ahead and get the job done. We packed up the things we wanted to keep, and left some of the clothes for the nursing home’s clothes closet.

I followed my parents home and helped unload everything, then I ran to Subway for sandwiches for the three of us. It was early — not even 4 p.m. — but we were all tired and hungry.

After we ate, I knew they were tired and had more phone calls to make, so I got out of their way, telling them to call me if they needed anything at all. I stopped by the newspaper to fill out my time sheet and mileage form in case I had to miss work on Monday, when both are due. I was also looking for a cell phone charger which I couldn’t find at home. At the time, we weren’t sure whether Grandmother’s local services would be on Sunday or Monday.

I’ve been home since then, dog tired but also sort of punchy. I’ve been online doing this and that, and watching TV. As usual, I overthink such things. If I go online and play games, and someone who knows me sees me there, will that be considered disrespectful? Or will they understand that I need a little diversion at this point?

I was supposed to work tomorrow, but my editor is going to stand in for me. The local services will be Sunday afternoon. Then, on Monday, my parents will transport Grandmother to Maryland, where she will be buried. Grandmother will be in the back of their minivan. (They’re getting the proper permits for this through the funeral home where my father works part-time.)

My out-of-state brother is going to drive in tomorrow. My uncle and cousins from Louisville, Ky., will be here for the funeral as well, which will be the first time I’ve seen some of them in many years. My aunt, my mother’s sister, has Huntington’s Disease and is unable to travel.

Thanks to all of you who have expressed your condolences or prayed for the family. Your kindness means more to me than you realize.