Hey, Grandma can you Hear me now?

I wrote this memoir for my creative writing class. My grandma died two summers ago. Nobody really knew how much it hurt me, until they read this. This is the reason why I am able to write such sad poems. Because when this happened I hurt so badly, that I ripping myself apart wouldn't even compare. Of course I am fine now! X)

Hey, grandma can you here me now?

 

            You know when your mom is acting different. She walks different when she’s mad; she talks different when she’s happy, and when she’s sad…you see how your mom strides quickly to make sure you don’t see her.  To make sure you don’t worry. You see how she glances at you, and when she sees you’ve been watching the entire time, she rushes away. You appear paralyzed after seeing her swollen red eyes.

 

            You go to her, asking what’s wrong, and some of the worse words you could ever hear, no mater who she is talking about, comes from her mouth, “Grandma may have only a few days to live,” she says, “But I need to go back to the hospital for now.”

           

            And then you realize everyone is crying. Your grandma’s friends, your siblings, cousins, your uncle, aunt, and even father. You’re the only one your mom can see. So you hold in the tears, you must be the person who will blink them away. No matter how much you are choking.

           

            After you watch mother leave, you go to your grandma’s room. When did such a simply surgery turn? Why did a woman that had at least 6 years to live, suddenly only have days? As you fall to your knees, you become one of the many crying.

           

           

           

            I remember walking into the hospital. I felt everyone’s stares, some eyes said, “Who are you visiting and why? What floor did yours get on? Are you happy you aren’t visiting me?” Maybe I imagined all those stares. My daze was much foggier than usual. I hadn’t ever gone to the hospital for these reasons.

           

            “Which room number?” I’d ask, and everyone rather not say. They wish they never even had to say a room number.

 

            The pained worsened when they opened the door, and I saw my grandma attached to so many tubes. I felt like they were just testing on her, like aliens had abducted her. This feeling hurt so much. I felt knocked back nearly, oh, I thought, this is seriously happening isn’t it?

           

            She was sleeping, sleeping peacefully where I nearly though she was already gone. I wanted to wake her up and yell, “Don’t you dare leave me now!” But she was deaf, she wouldn’t hear me. In fact grandma, you’ve never heard my voice have you?           

           

            My eyes had already been beat with watery salt before I made it to the hospital. Before I made it to the fumes of the hospital, the scent was actually familiar. There is a distinct difference between a nice home, and a place where everyone’s in pain.

 

            So I sat on the ground. I sat and cried, and cried, let a fountain fall from my glazed eyes. If I could have done something to help I would do it in a heartbeat, or I thought I would. I couldn’t even encourage my grandma from the sidelines, I only cried.

 

            When she woke up, she smiled such a bright colorful smile. And I just shook my head. How could you smile when we’re watching you die? Therefore I faked a smile. I tried so hard not to cry anymore, the smile only made it hurt worse though.

 

            I didn’t want to leave…I denied to leave. What if she die’s tonight?! Let me stay! Is what I wanted to say, as I came to my snese I knew I wouldn’t want to see her suffer.

           

            Luckily, she lived for about 4-5 months after. Once my sister left to Europe for the summer, I was in my grandma’s care every week day morning. Oh, how selfish was I to say, why me? Why must I guide her to the bathroom, help her brush her teeth, pour her cereal? She only wanted 7 wheat thin squares. It made me laugh a little, and then I understood why she wanted so little, she was dying.

 

            During this time, something became wonderful. My eyes opened up, and this was my thought, hey grandma, we spend 5 hours each morning with each other, and I’ve noticed something. We’ve laughed more than we used to. For some reason I can understand you, and you can understand me. I now realize how funny you are, you have some special humor. Oh, may I say my love for you has tripled . . .

 

            So when I had to watch my grandma fall so terribly in front of me, it was a dagger to my heart, No grandma! How dare I let this happen, I’m so, so, so, sorry . . .How do I say that in sign language? I don’t know how. I never did tell her how sorry I was . . .

           

            From then on I no longer got to spend my 5 hours with her. She seemed to get worse. Our laughs were on halt, our understandings pulled on reigns. I still remember the last thing she signed to me, “You’re beautiful.” And I wanted to sign back. So – Are – You. But didn’t know how.

 

            Few weeks later I was at camp. Grandma was probably too embarrassed for anyone to her die, the exception were my parents. While I was there, on the second day of camp, she passed away. All the girls there hugged me as I wailed in pain. This wasn’t just some dagger; it felt like dozens of swords cutting into me for dozens of year!

 

            The next day I smiled as I sang with the girls…….

 

            “Hey, grandma . . .can you hear me now?”

 

 

 

           

The End

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