Happy Tuesday, fellow Maniacs. You guys doing good? I hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves! Almost halfway through the week! It’s been a week since I put my dog down. It’s taking a lot to get used to the silence, the lack of tipping and tapping of his nails scurrying along the wooden floor, or having him lazily begging at my feet for food to drop from my plate. Time will make all things easier, right? All this grieving has made me reminisce on some of the greatest people that I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. My grandmother’s birthday is this month and she has been weighing on my heart lately. Must mean that she is trying to tell me something. Today, I wanted to share a personal, painful, but powerful prose that I wrote in memory of her in 2013. Maniacs, whatever grandparents you have left, hold on to them tight and tell them you love them!
So many things flowing through my mind…
Sometimes I wonder if my mind is a time machine–at least that’s the way that it seems. During the day I’m in the present; during the night I’m back in 2003 when life was beautiful and crafted beautifully. I ask myself why I think these things because at the time I wasn’t as happy as I am now.
My mind then shows me why I yearn for the early 2000’s. I recently traveled to 2004 where the only thing I remember is dirt being poured. I vividly recall the month before my dad’s mom passed away. She had been hospitalized with cancer known as Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
I’d never experienced a person, much less my grandma in such a feeble state.
As I nervously walked into her hospital room with my family aside me, all of the flashbacks of her getting up early in the morning reading her bible, and then proceeding to work out with Denise Austin VHS tapes were vanquished.
This was the first time in my life that I had actually felt death before it gotten to its destination. I stared at her with the sweetest eyes that I could muster, because my brain had already jumped to rather dire conclusions.
Her hair had been braided back into a ponytail. This made it too easy to see the revealed oxygen tube traveling into her nasal cavity, down her windpipe. I stood there frozen stiff, as if I was having a seizure or an out of body experience. My light in a dark world was about to be extinguished, and there wasn’t a damn thing that I could do about it.
I could see out of my peripheral that my family had begun to do the same. My dad rightfully took the lead in letting her know that all her grandchildren were here to see her. She slowly opened her eyes from her slumber, but could barely mutter a sound.
My curiosity began to stir as she extended her right hand out towards me. My brain was telling me to move forward and grasp it, but I knew that my heart couldn’t bare that action. Within an instant however, I had quickly taken off my little boy pants and had borrowed some of my father’s courage. Poor guy. Besides, it’s his mother and I knew this had to be tiring and fatiguing for him. I couldn’t imagine what thoughts were running through his head.
I crept towards her and twined our hands together. The feeling of her warmth was slowly fading away. I could feel her love, but only so many remnants were exerted. It was then and there that I felt that she knew that she would be going home to be with the Lord and her family members who’ve passed on. I gave her a bittersweet smile and I rested her hand back onto her abdomen.
I had to exit the room before I became a walking cascade.
A month had come and gone and just walking around became difficult. I was trying to prepare myself for the inevitability that was inevitably on its way.
On February 3rd, 2004, I was awakened by a 5 A.M. phone call on the house phone. I didn’t want to believe that it was what I thought it was. So I tried going back to sleep.
Thirty minutes later my mother walks out of her room and paces towards our room.
“Christian and Cameron…?” She summoned.
“Yes?” we said.
“Your grandma died…”
At that moment I’d lost half of my air capacity. The inevitable had occurred. How do you prepare for this? How do you receive closure on losing one of the people in your life who showed you genuine love, kindness and grace?
I’ll always love you, grandma. Forever and always. ❤