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.