Hello friends and family!
Today while I was sitting in my room starring at a million different objects that also call my room home, I began to think about something I hadn't allowed myself to think of for a while. I began to reminisce on memories of my grandma. Now for those of you who don't know me well enough, my grandma is one of those topics I am usually wary to talk about due to the emotional turmoil that generally ensues. Today, though, was different; I finally began to dwell on her death and face flaws within me that were ensnared into my very being. It began when one day, around the tender age of five or so, I bounded out of Grandma's car because I was so ecstatic to be staying with Grandma for around ten days that summer, but when I went to Grandma's side of the car, she was having trouble getting out of the car; she was holding onto the handle but couldn't quite pull herself out. Now in my young ignorance, I believed this to be a sign of old age and continued with life as usual. As I began to age, Grandma seemed to get worse, until one day, Mom told her to go to the doctor. Here again, I was ignorant to what was going on around me; I thought "oh, just another old lady check up." While in class one day, a boy shared a story that his mom's friends' cousin had died from a horrible disease; the disease was named Cancer. For some reason the next time I was alone with my grandma, the question just shot out of my mouth. "Grandma, do you have cancer?" She laughed, but the laugh was one of those ones that people use when they know it is the truth. Finally when she realized I had seen through her laugh, she heaved a great sigh and said she was going to get me some sweet tea. (
I realize now that she was trying to bid her time and figure out how to explain to me that: yes, she did have cancer and yes, she was on treatment.) Once she had composed herself, she walked into the living room sat down next to me and turned me to face her. Honestly in her eyes, I saw the answer I had been dreading; I also saw how worn out and tired she looked. She glanced up at me with a sad expression and said, "Yes, I have stage four cancer; yes, I am on chemo for it, and no, I don't think I can take you with me when I go to chemo." Of course, she knew I would go with her to chemo because that's how we were, inseparable. That week, she had her first dose of chemo; we walked into the hospital (where everyone in my family had been born) and checked in. When we were escorted back to the room, I noted how...dead (for lack of a better word) everyone looked. It was like there was no hope left. The nurse came in, placed my grandma is this weird psychiatrist type chair, and told her to keep her arm on the arm rest. I was sitting across from her watching this, but when the nurse began to stick in the needle, I noticed this pained look flash across Grandma's face. She quickly recovered and tried to smile at me with this fake smile, but the pain was still in her eyes. I didn't realize, but I was crying. My grandma was tougher than nails and never cried (or so I thought). By this point, I had had enough of this lady hurting my grandma; I remember thinking, "Who does she think she is?". I ran to my grandma and told the lady to stop hurting my grandma; Grandma told me, "It isn't that bad; I promise." She was lying, of course. By the end of the process, I noted that Grandma looked like she was going to be sick; she was pale and deathly looking. It was terrifying. During the car ride home, I broke down and asked my grandma if she was going to die. Her reply was a blatant lie, "Of course, I'm not going to die. I promise." Later that night, while laying in Grandma's guest bed (She had this thing where she refused to sleep in the master bedroom while we were there. I don't know if she always did this or if it was just when we were there.), I told my grandma that she didn't need to go to chemo anymore because I was going to pray for her, and God would fix her. She didn't say anything. She just smile that sad smile. As time went on, Grandma went from an active, happy woman to a sad, tired woman. I tried to pretend that I didn't notice because somehow, I knew she didn't want me to notice. While the four of us (Mom, Dad, Ashley, and I) were staying with her, I woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and went in search of my grandma. (At this point, I feel I should mention that if given the choice, I went to Grandma over Mom. There was no real reason for this, but I just felt more comfortable with Grandma because she was just loving all the time. She didn't judge me.) When I went to the guest bedroom, she wasn't there, so I began looking around the house. She was nowhere to be found. As I was running to my parents' room (the master bedroom), I noticed the door was open, and the light was on. Which was weird, seeing as it was two in the morning. When I peaked through the crack, I noticed immediately that neither of my parents were in the bed, and I heard this gut wrenching noise coming from their bathroom. I heard my parents say something like, "Mom, are you sure this is normal. You've been at it for a while.". (Now, I have come to realize that this was my grandma throwing up due to the chemo.) I didn't hear her reply, but I decided that if Grandma could handle this, then I could handle my nightmare. I went on to bed and fell into a restless, troubled sleep. My grandma always used to be up early cooking delicious things, but that changed the next morning when I woke up. Grandma wasn't awake and wasn't cooking. She woke up later and seemed very weak and pale. Around seven, my grandma couldn't take me very many places, and she sat on the couch or in bed most days. And to be honest, it didn't bother me that much because we were still hanging out, and besides, we could always look at the newest
American Girl catalogue or watch ice skating. Slowly, Grandma started to lose her appetite and strength. One day, my parents told me that we were going on vacation to Disney World in Orlando, Fl. I was so excited because Grandma was going, and I would get to meet all of the princesses. When we were in the airport, we rented a wheelchair for Grandma because she couldn't stand for that long. It was a blast getting to push my grandma around, until I reached a ramp, and the wheelchair started rolling back down the hill. We were all so happy. (I didn't realize that we were taking this trip because Grandma wasn't getting any better and wouldn't be around to see us this happy again.) I received the honor of sitting next to Grandma on the flight (mainly because I had horrible motion sickness), and when we landed, it was pouring. But, no one really cared we were there, and nothing was going to ruin our trip. When we finally got around to walking Disney, I was everywhere (which meant Grandma was also pushed everywhere). We took hundreds of photos, received autographs from everyone, and laughed like we hadn't for months. When we were done with Disney, Grandma recommended we go to Daytona Speedway (since Dad is a huge Nascar fanatic). While on the track, a worker told us that we could drive one of the cars for a hundred dollars; immediately, Grandma told Dad to do it, but he wouldn't because he said it was too pricey. Grandma kept offering, but Dad couldn't accept it. On the way home, I was still in dreamland, and cancer was just a horrible dream. Around eight, reality set in. Grandma couldn't really move from her chair, and we had to hire in-home assistance. I didn't like the in-home help because they didn't treat my grandma like a queen; they treated her like a burden. One day they had helped her move to her guest bedroom, and she was safely tucked into bed with a trash can next to her just in case. I was almost scared to see her because of how thin and pale she had become. Her skin was practically translucent. We sat down together and started looking at the newest
American Girl magazine. I told her I wanted Kaya (Kaya was a Native American doll who had a horse, wolf, and other cool accessories.). Grandma asked me if I was sure I didn't want the Kitt doll, who looked just like me, but I was dead set on Kaya. She said she would see what she could do with Santa. We then began talking of my plans to go to Paris someday and all the places I wanted to travel to. The ominous cancer talk was forgotten. My parents decided it would be best if they went up there to take care of her and be there when she died. (During the end, she wouldn't let me see her because she didn't want me to remember her like that.) October 21st was the day they thought she was ready to go. Her eyesight had gone, and she could barely talk. They had her say her goodbyes to everyone but my sister and I (We had school in the morning.). But the next morning, she was still there, barely. We received a call from our mother, and Ashley spoke first. I was in the car, ready to leave for school, when Ashley brought the phone out to me. My mom said, "Grandma can't talk back, but she can hear everything you say. She wants to hear you. Just talk to her.". I didn't know what to say, so I began with telling her that I was going to school and such. But midway through my babbling, I stopped talking; I had the dawning realization that she was dying. I started bawling on the phone and asking, "Why aren't you talking back? I prayed, so you can't leave me. You promised, Grandma. Why won't you talk back? What's going on? I love you. I love you so much, Grandma. Don't leave me; you're my best friend. I'll take back every bad thing I ever said. I will give away all of my toys." By this point, I was in full hysterics, but still, I received no reply. Sunny (the lady we were staying with for the time being) had yet to start the car. We were going to be late, but we didn't care. My heart was being ripped out and repeatedly stabbed; I'd never felt pain like this before. It was soul deep; nothing else mattered. Finally, my mom took the phone back and said I needed to get to school. I went to school but felt like a dam was going to burst from me at any moment. I didn't want to play or eat or work. I wanted my grandma, plain and simple. When school got out, our family friend Jay picked us up. I didn't talk to any one. When we arrived at their house, I noted that our great-aunt Gin was there. She looked so hurt and sad when she saw us. It was like time slowed, and I knew in that moment that she was gone. My superhero, my world, was gone. My heart was shattered. She died October 22nd, 2003. While we drove to Wellington (where my grandma lived), Gin told us that Grandma took her last breath after the phone call ended. I was the last person she heard. I was the voice she took with her. During this time, a feeling had began to build within me. It's a feeling I now recognize as anger. It took hold of what was left of my soul. I was so angry and hurt. I was furious that I wasn't there holding her when she took her last breath. I was so angry at my parents for keeping me away. I was crushed by my hero lying to me and breaking her promise. To be honest, I still held on to this anger, hurt, and betrayal. But recently, I have began to see the effects of how badly these feelings have impacted my life. I have been taking this out on those around me and hurting those I love. Also, I have come to the realization that it's okay. I still love my family with all of my heart. Everyone did what they thought was right. I became a stronger person because of it. I learned to stand on my own two feet. I began to cherish every moment with my loved ones. Because in the end, that's all that matters. It is okay. I'll be okay. Its not about the number of breaths we take; it's about the moments that come up unexpectedly and take our breath away.
