But I will bend the light pretending that it somehow lingered on
Have I mentioned yet that Jake's grandmother is very sick? She has what my grandmother had: she is dying. For a month now we have been visiting, praying and waiting near the phone, our breath baited for that inevitable call to say our last goodbyes. For a month now I have gone from work to home to the hospital and back again in hopes that my presence will somehow help anyone. For a month I have been reliving the painful reality that my own grandmother was stolen away so quickly it didn't give me time to properly say goodbye.
My nerves are shot, my temper is short. Because I've been sick, I haven't been able to visit for two weeks or so and so i played the waiting game...
And then, on Fathers day (of all days) I recieve the news: somehow she is getting better. her hair is coming back. She is going home (for a few hours on tuesday) and is feeling great. Her cancer is still there, eating away at her but she is getting better. Her white blood cell count has skyrocketed: there is a glimmer of a silver lining against the breaking storm. the outcome is final: she will die from this...but now, nobody knows when.
Jake says that his grandma decided that she didn't want to be sick anymore, and so she's not. And it made me think of my grandmother and how she might just have decided "you know what, it's done"...and let herself go. That's not saying that grandma wasn't a fighter, but she wasn't a fighter in the same way that Jake's is. Jake's grandma has that spirit that is so indomitable that the rocks will bleed before she gives in. I honestly think that if she wanted to, she could live forever she is just THAT strong. It makes me sad, to think taht I might have been able to say goodbye to my grandma...and talk to her once or twice before the end. I mean, did she know i loved her? Did she know I was there?
Even as I sit here and type this, I cry. I think of all the things - the pies, the birthday cards, the NOISY typewriter and the laughter - that I had and have no longer. I think of all the things I should have said, could have done...and it makes me so impossibly lonely. It's like we borrow people -- we borrow love. We can try to keep it but it's like water or air - there and gone, its presence taken for granted and its absense sorely missed.
When I think of my grandma I think of sunshine. I think of picnics, flowers and birds. I think of that tiny apartment in toronto that was so often filled with laughter, food and family and how there was so much love to go around. I think of how she used to kiss grandpa every time they got into an elevator - regardless of who was watching - and how she always wore that same apron. I remember her in the kitchen, always cooking somebody's favourite food food for a function, or at the table, writing. i think of Christmas. I think of grandpa's eggs and jello with canned milk. I think of apple crisp, green beans and Asterix Comics. I think of love, mirrors and thunderstorms. I think of plants, of a cactus so huge it's gross and kitchen cupboards that slant downwards. And always, I think of crabapple jelly and raspberry jam.
It's still so tough. I thought that half a year after the fact I would be okay, but I'm not. When I hear my mother or my aunt's laugh or talk i hear her. I see her. And oh, I miss her.
I cry because I need someone here who will let me cry - Jake can't stand it when I'm sad and always tries to fix it. but this won't fix: this doesn't heal. I cry because those who mean the most to me are so far away right now, emotionally, physically and I can't reach them. I feel so impossibly stranded here, and the more I think about it...the more I want to go home.
But home is torn for me now. home is here, and home is there.
It's summer now. The tree out front is green and leafy, the birds are always singing and I can walk outside and feel the sun warm me up. The evenings bring a tranquility that I haven't had since Africa: I feel safe and I feel warm. My heart yearns towards grander things: I want to travel, I want to go home.
Have I mentioned yet that Jake's grandmother is very sick? She has what my grandmother had: she is dying. For a month now we have been visiting, praying and waiting near the phone, our breath baited for that inevitable call to say our last goodbyes. For a month now I have gone from work to home to the hospital and back again in hopes that my presence will somehow help anyone. For a month I have been reliving the painful reality that my own grandmother was stolen away so quickly it didn't give me time to properly say goodbye.
My nerves are shot, my temper is short. Because I've been sick, I haven't been able to visit for two weeks or so and so i played the waiting game...
And then, on Fathers day (of all days) I recieve the news: somehow she is getting better. her hair is coming back. She is going home (for a few hours on tuesday) and is feeling great. Her cancer is still there, eating away at her but she is getting better. Her white blood cell count has skyrocketed: there is a glimmer of a silver lining against the breaking storm. the outcome is final: she will die from this...but now, nobody knows when.
Jake says that his grandma decided that she didn't want to be sick anymore, and so she's not. And it made me think of my grandmother and how she might just have decided "you know what, it's done"...and let herself go. That's not saying that grandma wasn't a fighter, but she wasn't a fighter in the same way that Jake's is. Jake's grandma has that spirit that is so indomitable that the rocks will bleed before she gives in. I honestly think that if she wanted to, she could live forever she is just THAT strong. It makes me sad, to think taht I might have been able to say goodbye to my grandma...and talk to her once or twice before the end. I mean, did she know i loved her? Did she know I was there?
Even as I sit here and type this, I cry. I think of all the things - the pies, the birthday cards, the NOISY typewriter and the laughter - that I had and have no longer. I think of all the things I should have said, could have done...and it makes me so impossibly lonely. It's like we borrow people -- we borrow love. We can try to keep it but it's like water or air - there and gone, its presence taken for granted and its absense sorely missed.
When I think of my grandma I think of sunshine. I think of picnics, flowers and birds. I think of that tiny apartment in toronto that was so often filled with laughter, food and family and how there was so much love to go around. I think of how she used to kiss grandpa every time they got into an elevator - regardless of who was watching - and how she always wore that same apron. I remember her in the kitchen, always cooking somebody's favourite food food for a function, or at the table, writing. i think of Christmas. I think of grandpa's eggs and jello with canned milk. I think of apple crisp, green beans and Asterix Comics. I think of love, mirrors and thunderstorms. I think of plants, of a cactus so huge it's gross and kitchen cupboards that slant downwards. And always, I think of crabapple jelly and raspberry jam.
It's still so tough. I thought that half a year after the fact I would be okay, but I'm not. When I hear my mother or my aunt's laugh or talk i hear her. I see her. And oh, I miss her.
I cry because I need someone here who will let me cry - Jake can't stand it when I'm sad and always tries to fix it. but this won't fix: this doesn't heal. I cry because those who mean the most to me are so far away right now, emotionally, physically and I can't reach them. I feel so impossibly stranded here, and the more I think about it...the more I want to go home.
But home is torn for me now. home is here, and home is there.
It's summer now. The tree out front is green and leafy, the birds are always singing and I can walk outside and feel the sun warm me up. The evenings bring a tranquility that I haven't had since Africa: I feel safe and I feel warm. My heart yearns towards grander things: I want to travel, I want to go home.
4 Comments:
Your grandma was wonderful. She was a very fun mother but she had other places to move on to. Before she died she asked for all of us. She waited til I came, but couldn't wait for George. She asked for me specifically and I came as soon as I could. It's not fair, but she's happy now. I still miss her and I still cry. I probably will until the day I die. You are and will always somebody's daughter.
Your grandma was strong. God just wanted her sooner rather than later.
She definately knew you were there. In my spirit and my heart, I knew that. Just like she knew I was there. She was happy you were there. She was listening to our conversations and enjoying them. Thinking that this is how it should be. Just like being born is a part of life, so is dying and what better way to die than to have those you love the absolute most with you at home. Her body was weak, but her mind and spirit were still young (and listening). That's what sucks about getting old and/or sick - the spirit is willing but the body is weak.
You were able to serve your grandma in her last days in a way that most children (let alone grand children) either choose not to or can't serve their parents or in your case, grandparent. You are blessed and you are loved more than you know. Grandpa asks about you whenever we talk.
And the cactus - it came from me. I thought it was gross when it was small, but I couldn't bear to kill it. You are right - the bigger it gets, to more gross it becomes. I don't want it back.
I miss her too, Sarah, and that's okay. It's okay to be sad and to cry. But it's her beginning, not her end. We will begin someday as well.
Now that you've been to Africa, you can understand why I feel about the sun and summer the way I do. I still deeply long for Asia. There is nothing like summer sun and warmth.
You are always welcome at home. I will always be your mother and I will always love you and you will always be my beautiful daughter whose smile is as bright and lovely as sunshine.
Those were beautiful words from your mother there hun, and words to take to heart. You and I both sound pretty rough lately. I would give you a big hug if you were here and expect the same thing in return :( I miss ya girlfriend. Life doesn't seem to be getting easier the older we get eh? I think we should boycott it all and just sit on a beach for awhile sipping some sangria...
You're wrong, though. Grandma couldn't have decided to get better. She couldn't have because God was calling her home. Everyone has a time, and that was hers. You can't escape or change the time that God has chosen for you.
Please realise how unbelievably lucky you are to have been there when she died. You are so lucky. I was on the other side of the country - and I loved Grandma just as much as you. Count it as a blessing. A huge, huge blessing. What I wouldn't have given to see her one last time. To have told her I loved her. Not only that, but mom was away from me as well. I very rarely regret things - but that is one thing I desperately wish I could have changed.
So be sad, because we are all sad. I love her and miss her so much. But also realize that through our sadness we are blessed.
Where did you find it? Interesting read » » »
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