Eternal Repercussions

Last night, we watched the second Twilight movie. I always get the titles mixed up. So, first few minutes, blah blah, birthday crap, blah blah, blood, fight, ya ya, then breakup scene, she gets lost.. Then the scene of her sitting in front of the window as the months go by. And that song that plays. I don't know the name of the song, nor do I want to know. It's an incredibly depressing song, and just hearing it takes me back. Not to some failed romance, but to a death that had enormous impact on my life.

My grandmother and I were incredibly close. I was born the day before her birthday. She took care of me from 3 months till kindergarten, and I had regular overnights with her, and went on trips with her and papa.  She taught me how to draw, and read, and how to play memory games. When I was very little, I remember getting to sleep in the bed between her and papa. Then, they moved me to a lounge chair that they set up next to the bed. She and I would stay up past my bedtime putting together puzzles, or doing crossword puzzles. They almost always ordered pizza for my regular overnights. Large thin crust hamburger pizza. I loved playing pretend games in their entryway, and it was not uncommon for guests to walk in on me mid-wardrobe change.  When I started high school, I walked the 3 blocks to her house every day after school and stayed till my mom got off work and picked me up. We never traded words in anger, although there were points over which we disagreed. Ice cream flavors, for one. She was a daquiri ice lover, I prefered chocolate chip cookie dough. All in all, our personalities were remarkably similar. 

I graduated high school and moved off to college, but still made a point to spend time with her when I was home, and often called her.  Met my now dh in college. I was anxious for him to meet her. She had disapproved of every. single. boyfriend. I'd ever had. I'd begun to think that she would always disapprove. But I was wrong. He came home with me one weekend and she liked him. They bonded over daquiri ice ice cream, and things went from there.  She approved. That sealed the deal for me, although it was 7 years before we married. Life was good.

Fast forward several years.

2005

Grandma was always very overweight. Then she caught a nasty lingering cold and lost weight as a result. She continued losing weight over the next several months. She was so happy that her appetite had gone down so much and she was losing the weight! Husband (still boyfriend at the time) and I had decided to move out of our 1 bedroom apartment, and were looking for a house to buy. We found a great starter home. Closing date was October 20, 2005. It's funny the things that stick with you. Friday the moving truck moved all our furniture to the new house. Saturday my uncle and his wife and my then best friend and her boyfriend helped move boxes from the apartment to the house. Sunday I spent the afternoon at the apartment cleaning and boxing up more things.  I load up the car after working all afternoon, and take it home.  Hubby's parents are at the house. He greets me outside. My grandmother was taken to the hospital, he said, and they're calling in family. She had apparently contracted pneumonia at some point and after who knows how long of not treating it, it turned to septicemia- the infection was in her blood. I grabbed a few needed toiletries, and rode the 2 hours to my hometown with my uncle and his wife.

Please pardon me, but things start getting sketchy from here.  I remember us visiting her in the hospital. DH (dear hubby) came down the next day and I remember all of us, my mom and step dad, my sister, DH, my mom's 4 brothers and their significant others all crowded in the semi-private room she was staying in. We joked and talked, and eventually all went back to our respective homes. Next day I was back at work. I got a call at work. The hospital had run followup tests on her, got some strange results and gave her a CAT scan and MRI or something. Her body was riddled with cancer. She wasn't going to live long. My heart fell into a black hole and was crushed. I remember crying in my boss' office. I was horrified. I was so upset. Either that night or the next, we were at home and my aunt called. Grandma had taken a turn for the worse. She was dying. They were keeping her on ventilators until we could get down there. I freaked out. I yelled at her. I screamed. I told her she was a dirty liar and asked why she would say such lies. I refused to believe her lies. The joke wasn't funny. I hung up on her. DH spoke to her first, and had started packing a bag for me. Then my stepdad called. It was no lie. She was in a coma and would die very soon. I needed to pack some things and come down. I remember losing the strength in my legs and crying in the floor of our closet. This time, he accompanied me. We followed my uncle down. It was such a dark night, and foggy to boot. We drove recklessly fast.

We get down there and the family is all there. Even one of her brothers. They were huddled in the ICU waiting area. Papa asked if we wanted to go back to see her. So mom, my sis and I did. I walked with him. The closer we got to her room, the less I wanted to see her. I'd been  in the hospital room when my paternal grandmother took her last breath. But I couldn't.. I wouldn't do this with her. I could not watch her breathe her last breath. I couldn't. I started to panic. I was being pushed to a reality I refused to accept. Papa told me I didn't have to see her if I didn't want to. But I did. So I went in with them. I held her hand, that same hand that popped my behind if I misbehaved, and loved to play with my hair.  I told her that I loved her. I imagined that she squeezed back just the tiniest bit. I left the room.  As the wee hours of the night approached, we discussed obituaries and funerals, and where to send the masses of flowers and plants that she'd gotten during her brief stay in the hospital. Some point, around 3 or 4 in the morning, dh and I went to a nearby town to rest at my dad and step mom's house.  A few hours later, we received the call.

She died.

DH drove me back to my hometown. He had to leave to go back to classes. It was nearing finals, and he couldn't afford to miss.  We were all gathering at grandma and papa's house.  I think they were looking for clothes and whatnot for her to wear. I don't know. I wandered aimlessly in the house, unaware that those steps would be the last I ever took in the house I spent so many days, so many laughs, so many special moments of my life in.  I recall crying in her bedroom. At some point, papa said he had to go to Mena, a town a couple hours away to make arrangements. They were burying her there. They had bought land there and he was working on building them a house to retire in. I rode with him. I remember a stop along the way for him to get a drink and something. We got to town. One of his sisters flew? drove? somehow got down there from Kansas. We shared a room together. She told me I stank and needed to shower. She was right. It had been several days.  I'd ceased to function long ago, and needed to be reminded to carry out even the simplest tasks.  I would talk, I would walk, and do things, but it was a husk. I had been pulled into the black hole with my heart. I didn't see anything. I heard little. My love, although he packed several pairs of underwear, had neglected to pack an entire outfit suitable for the funeral. Luckily my little sister packed extra things.

At some point someone brought a sandwich tray, and one morning.. or was it two? we all ate breakfast at this restaurant. Buffet style. On the evening of the viewing, I spent a good portion of the evening staring at myself in the mirror. I don't know why. I spent an equally healthy part looking at who sent what plants, and rubbing my beloved grandmother's hand until the makeup came off. Makeup on her hand. Makeup on my grandmother's hand because it was lifeless. It would forever more be lifeless, and would rely solely on makeup to give it a hint of the life that once coursed through it. There might have been some sort of ceremony, and I have no idea who was there. Funeral day, a local church provided a meal. I ate. DH was back. It was Saturday. I have no idea where the other days were spent.  Went to the funeral. I cried and he had to help me walk. My legs were toothpicks trying to hold up the world. I recall them wanting us to leave before they lowered her body into the grave. But we stayed and I watched from the car. It was terrifying. They were putting my grandmother INTO THE HOLE!!! PLEASE PLEASE make them STOP. But they neither heard me, nor did they stop. We drove home. The next day, Sunday, was Halloween. So many children came to trick or treat.

I.. I refused to accept her death for a long time. She wasn't dead, I would say to myself. I just haven't called her. I really ought to call her. They all gathered to go through her things. I couldnt' go, I told them, but all I wanted was the printer's tray that forever hung above where she sat. Ok, that's fine, you can have it. Finally, months and months down the road I called. It was no longer in service. My papa had permanently moved to Mena while he was building his house. Not theirs anymore. Just his. I cried. I cried daily that first year, to work, home from work. Then I started crying every other day, then every few days, then weekly, and now, six long years later, I cry about once a month or so. But every time I cry, the scab is ripped from the wound and it bleeds as heavily as the first time, and the pain is just as deep as when it first occured. Apparently, I didn't smile much for several months. I don't remember. I don't remember much of anything about that first year.

I do recall dreading our birthdays. See, being that our birthdays were back to back, we always shared a family birthday party. And this year.. We wouldn't. The previous year on our birthdays, she forgot to call me. I thouht nothing of it, and called her on her birthday. She was so upset because she missed my birthday. It's ok grandma, I remember saying. You'll remember next year. Except. There was no next. year. There was and never will be another next year.

We got married, and it was terribly bittersweet. So happy to be forever joined with my perfect mate, but forever regretful that my grandmother couldn't be there to see it. A couple years later, we had our beautiful baby boy. And oh..... oh how many times have I WISHED with all of my heart to just be able to pick up the phone and call her. I never knew that you could wish so hard that it made you ache. But you can. You can wish with every breath, every thought and every movement you make until you crack and bleed. But alas. It never comes true. I think of her.

Every.
Single.

Day.

I wish, oh how I wish, that someone else had died in her place. That this has all been an incredibly elaborate and detailed dream. That...... that I was but a little girl again sitting in her lap as we talked about everything.