Something about this time of year...
My grandmother has been dead for 9 months now. 9 months since the last time I saw her, 9 months since I hugged her, 9 months since I spoke to her, 9 months and counting.
The day after she passed seemed an eternity. I couldn't believe it. She was really gone.
This woman, Sarah Agnes Gray, an entire life, 76 years of existence, wiped out.
How can that be?
How can A life just end? She was a strong woman, walked to work every morning, rain or shine. Sometimes I would wake up to drive her, because it was cold and I felt bad. I would hear her alarm go off and I would go downstairs and pretend I'd been up all night, because she would never have taken the ride otherwise. I'd stop at the little store as she always called it, Dairy Mart as it was called back then, DB mart today.
She always got a handful of muffins. I never understood why she did that, maybe it was an old habit from when I worked for her. I use to eat those muffins while I worked, well actually in between naps, she never made me really work. She'd always say it was because she never had time to get a real lunch, it was always so busy. I would laugh to myself, Dorothy's Dry Cleaners was never busy.
I'd drop her off and go home, I usually went right back to bed, I was and still am no early bird. Sometimes I'd sleep until she came home, sometimes I had work, and I wouldn't be here when she came home. Sometimes, when I was still sleeping, she'd wake me up and ask me if I had work, I never did.
I remember the day she asked me for a ride home, the first time she had ever actually asked. She felt tired she said. She hadn't been feeling good for a few days. I knew she'd had a bad cough, I told my mom I thought she had pneumonia, I said I could hear her breathing through the wall. It wasn't true though, I just felt something was wrong. It was my death sense, something a career in EMS had forged. She was sick, this time she was really sick.
I forgot to pick her up, I was just a few minutes late, but she was already gone when I showed up. I called her phone again and again, but she didn't answer. It was hard to tell which way she went, sometimes she went to the post office after work, sometimes to Brooks, its Ride Aid now. I didn't know where she went, so I drove around calling and looking for her, I was frantic, something was wrong, she should have waited.
I couldn't find her. I drove home slowly, looking for her trademark white hair. I saw her on the end of our parking lot, it had taken her a very long time to get just this far. She wasn't walking very fast, she always walked very fast, faster than I did. I pulled over and offered her a ride, and for the first time in my entire life I heard her out of breath. She declined, and I parked and walked with her. She didn't make coffee today like she always did, she went straight to her room.
A couple of days went by. I would sit awake and listen to her cough, I could hear it, I swear I could hear pneumonia through the walls. My brother stayed home, he didn't have work. I said goodbye and I left with mom, she always drove me. Grandma stayed home today, I never knew her to take a sick day, not in 22 years had she ever taken a sick day. She was tired she said. I got to work and I climbed into the cab, something was wrong. It was a Tuesday, I was with Josh, I'd worked with him every Tuesday for over a year. We started together, we knew each other, and he knew when I got off the phone with my brother something was wrong.
Grandma came down the stairs he said, and asked him for money. She was going to take a cab to the hospital she said. A cab, and I am an EMT, I was sitting in an ambulance 5 minutes and she was going to take a cab? I told Josh and he knew what I wanted, but it was too late, she was already at the hospital. Alex said I had better hurry, she was very sick.
2 weeks later, 2 weeks of terrible pain. Not for her, but for the rest of us. We tried not to leave her alone. We all knew, and when the doctor said cancer, the word cut like a scalpel. Not grandma we thought, she can't have cancer, not like this. No treatment he said.
We will tell her we informed the doctor, she'll be too scared, she has to hear it from one of us. He didn't listen, he told her cancer when she was all alone, one of the few times someone couldn't be there. She cried she told me, she said she was hysterical. For the first time I cried too. I told her I was so sorry, I lied and told her she would be ok, she lied and said she knew she would be too.
She died shortly after requesting her last rights. The priest didn't even look at her, he was watching her TV. She was a devoted catholic her entire life, and in her last moments the priest couldn't devote himself to her. Later we would all laugh, and cry about this incident. I wasn't there when it happened, I was too scared. I couldn't accept her death. I am an EMT, I wanted to save her, it was my job to deny death, and I couldn't save her.
I spent every moment I could with her after that. She was so scared. They kept doing tests, I don't know why. She hated them, all of them, but was too afraid to say no, and I was too afraid to say no too. No felt like acceptance, and acceptance meant it was true, and if it was true then she would be leaving soon, and that was impossible. I used my EMT ticket to follow her into CT rooms and X-Ray labs.
I spent so much time there, I heard her last words. She asked me to shoot her. She looked like she was drunk. She formed a gun with her hands, and pulled the trigger. shoot me. And so we did. We met with the staff, the doctors, the nurses and social workers. They said we could help her, morphine they said, ease her breathing. My brother was her contact person, he was her proxy, he was there when someone had to step up, and he did. He never left her side except to eat or use the bathroom, and he often used the one in her room. I wish I had been that brave.
We set up the morphine drip. I knew what we had done. We were shooting her. She was sitting in a chair. That was how she wanted to die. They changed her after she was unconscious, and put her in bed. I was furious, she asked to die in the chair! They said she would breath easier in bed. I didn't understand, she wasn't breathing any easier, we were killing her.
I watched as her breathing slowed. They took her off the monitors. I'm glad, I didn't want the proof, I didn't want to have evidence of her passing. You could see her pulse beating in her neck. Every time she took a breath it was painful. She struggled and her body heaved. It was late at night, and I couldn't stay. I asked if I could go home, just for a little while. I don't know why I chose then, I don't know if I was afraid. I made a peanut butter and jelly and I sat in the dark at the computer. My phone rang. She's gone Mark, Alex whispered into the phone. You'd better come back.
I didn't believe it. I drove slowly. I walked mechanically. Through the front door, past the first row of elevators, towards the sign that said "pratt." I stopped at her floor. I walked past the nurses station, my family was in the room. Everyone was crying, the way Regan's cry. She was there in bed, no more pulse in her neck. Her mouth was open, her body was very still. I don't remember walking over to her, but I remember hugging her. I whispered in her ear, I hoped she could still hear me. Good luck, I choked out, I love you, and I'm sorry.
I didn't cry. I ushered everyone from the room. I was blank, I wasn't a son, or a brother, I wasn't a grandson, I was an EMT helping a bunch of strangers deal with a death. I told them not to look, not to remember this, because this wasn't her. That in there, that isn't Sally, that is not grandma.
It has been 9 months.
I wish she could see what I have become, the man I am now. I wish she could see me hold Aryana. I wish she could see my braces. I wish she could meet Erin, I wish she got to see me this happy. I wish I could tell her about college. I wish I could brag about my 4.0. I wish I could tell her about my new job. I wish she could see how successful I am.
I wish I had asked her more about her life. Who was her first love, who was my grandfather? how did they meet, what happened to him? What happened with her and my Uncle Dan. Why did she name my mom Janine, why not Susan or Sarah, or something else? I wish I could have asked her about her dreams. I wish I could have asked her about her thoughts on love and life. What was her favorite drink, her favorite food. What was it like to grow up in the 40s?
I wish I could think about her without crying.
And I am so thankful that I had the chance to see her every single day. I am so thankful that she was only one room over from mine. I am so thankful that I told her I loved her as often as I did. I am so thankful that she told me she loved me as often as she did. I am so thankful I sat in her room and watched jeopardy with her. I am so thankful she got to see mine and Alex's apt in North Carolina. I am so thankful I had such a fantastic Grandmother. I am so thankful I got even 1 day with her. I am so thankful she moved in to watch me and Alex so my mother could go to college. I am so thankful that she never moved out, no matter how much I complained. I am so thankful she was so forgiving. I am so thankful that I am still alive, and I am so blessed to have loved someone, and been loved by someone so much, that the loss has changed me.
Today I tried to talk my girlfriend into going driving. She had hw, and we joked through text about how I was keeping her from studying. She studies so hard. She said she had to go, she told me she loved me, and said have a goodnight baby. I told her I loved her too, to sleep well, and have a goodnight sleep. Someday, her daughter will suffer her loss, like my mother suffered grandmas passing. Maybe Aryana will suffer my passing too, if I'm lucky enough to be in her life that long. I hope that if I am, that she will suffer like I do, I hope because it means I will have been as great as grandma. I am so thankful for the chance.
I love you so much Grandma, Gamma. I think about you, I cry for you, I will never forget you.
~Mark
The day after she passed seemed an eternity. I couldn't believe it. She was really gone.
This woman, Sarah Agnes Gray, an entire life, 76 years of existence, wiped out.
How can that be?
How can A life just end? She was a strong woman, walked to work every morning, rain or shine. Sometimes I would wake up to drive her, because it was cold and I felt bad. I would hear her alarm go off and I would go downstairs and pretend I'd been up all night, because she would never have taken the ride otherwise. I'd stop at the little store as she always called it, Dairy Mart as it was called back then, DB mart today.
She always got a handful of muffins. I never understood why she did that, maybe it was an old habit from when I worked for her. I use to eat those muffins while I worked, well actually in between naps, she never made me really work. She'd always say it was because she never had time to get a real lunch, it was always so busy. I would laugh to myself, Dorothy's Dry Cleaners was never busy.
I'd drop her off and go home, I usually went right back to bed, I was and still am no early bird. Sometimes I'd sleep until she came home, sometimes I had work, and I wouldn't be here when she came home. Sometimes, when I was still sleeping, she'd wake me up and ask me if I had work, I never did.
I remember the day she asked me for a ride home, the first time she had ever actually asked. She felt tired she said. She hadn't been feeling good for a few days. I knew she'd had a bad cough, I told my mom I thought she had pneumonia, I said I could hear her breathing through the wall. It wasn't true though, I just felt something was wrong. It was my death sense, something a career in EMS had forged. She was sick, this time she was really sick.
I forgot to pick her up, I was just a few minutes late, but she was already gone when I showed up. I called her phone again and again, but she didn't answer. It was hard to tell which way she went, sometimes she went to the post office after work, sometimes to Brooks, its Ride Aid now. I didn't know where she went, so I drove around calling and looking for her, I was frantic, something was wrong, she should have waited.
I couldn't find her. I drove home slowly, looking for her trademark white hair. I saw her on the end of our parking lot, it had taken her a very long time to get just this far. She wasn't walking very fast, she always walked very fast, faster than I did. I pulled over and offered her a ride, and for the first time in my entire life I heard her out of breath. She declined, and I parked and walked with her. She didn't make coffee today like she always did, she went straight to her room.
A couple of days went by. I would sit awake and listen to her cough, I could hear it, I swear I could hear pneumonia through the walls. My brother stayed home, he didn't have work. I said goodbye and I left with mom, she always drove me. Grandma stayed home today, I never knew her to take a sick day, not in 22 years had she ever taken a sick day. She was tired she said. I got to work and I climbed into the cab, something was wrong. It was a Tuesday, I was with Josh, I'd worked with him every Tuesday for over a year. We started together, we knew each other, and he knew when I got off the phone with my brother something was wrong.
Grandma came down the stairs he said, and asked him for money. She was going to take a cab to the hospital she said. A cab, and I am an EMT, I was sitting in an ambulance 5 minutes and she was going to take a cab? I told Josh and he knew what I wanted, but it was too late, she was already at the hospital. Alex said I had better hurry, she was very sick.
2 weeks later, 2 weeks of terrible pain. Not for her, but for the rest of us. We tried not to leave her alone. We all knew, and when the doctor said cancer, the word cut like a scalpel. Not grandma we thought, she can't have cancer, not like this. No treatment he said.
We will tell her we informed the doctor, she'll be too scared, she has to hear it from one of us. He didn't listen, he told her cancer when she was all alone, one of the few times someone couldn't be there. She cried she told me, she said she was hysterical. For the first time I cried too. I told her I was so sorry, I lied and told her she would be ok, she lied and said she knew she would be too.
She died shortly after requesting her last rights. The priest didn't even look at her, he was watching her TV. She was a devoted catholic her entire life, and in her last moments the priest couldn't devote himself to her. Later we would all laugh, and cry about this incident. I wasn't there when it happened, I was too scared. I couldn't accept her death. I am an EMT, I wanted to save her, it was my job to deny death, and I couldn't save her.
I spent every moment I could with her after that. She was so scared. They kept doing tests, I don't know why. She hated them, all of them, but was too afraid to say no, and I was too afraid to say no too. No felt like acceptance, and acceptance meant it was true, and if it was true then she would be leaving soon, and that was impossible. I used my EMT ticket to follow her into CT rooms and X-Ray labs.
I spent so much time there, I heard her last words. She asked me to shoot her. She looked like she was drunk. She formed a gun with her hands, and pulled the trigger. shoot me. And so we did. We met with the staff, the doctors, the nurses and social workers. They said we could help her, morphine they said, ease her breathing. My brother was her contact person, he was her proxy, he was there when someone had to step up, and he did. He never left her side except to eat or use the bathroom, and he often used the one in her room. I wish I had been that brave.
We set up the morphine drip. I knew what we had done. We were shooting her. She was sitting in a chair. That was how she wanted to die. They changed her after she was unconscious, and put her in bed. I was furious, she asked to die in the chair! They said she would breath easier in bed. I didn't understand, she wasn't breathing any easier, we were killing her.
I watched as her breathing slowed. They took her off the monitors. I'm glad, I didn't want the proof, I didn't want to have evidence of her passing. You could see her pulse beating in her neck. Every time she took a breath it was painful. She struggled and her body heaved. It was late at night, and I couldn't stay. I asked if I could go home, just for a little while. I don't know why I chose then, I don't know if I was afraid. I made a peanut butter and jelly and I sat in the dark at the computer. My phone rang. She's gone Mark, Alex whispered into the phone. You'd better come back.
I didn't believe it. I drove slowly. I walked mechanically. Through the front door, past the first row of elevators, towards the sign that said "pratt." I stopped at her floor. I walked past the nurses station, my family was in the room. Everyone was crying, the way Regan's cry. She was there in bed, no more pulse in her neck. Her mouth was open, her body was very still. I don't remember walking over to her, but I remember hugging her. I whispered in her ear, I hoped she could still hear me. Good luck, I choked out, I love you, and I'm sorry.
I didn't cry. I ushered everyone from the room. I was blank, I wasn't a son, or a brother, I wasn't a grandson, I was an EMT helping a bunch of strangers deal with a death. I told them not to look, not to remember this, because this wasn't her. That in there, that isn't Sally, that is not grandma.
It has been 9 months.
I wish she could see what I have become, the man I am now. I wish she could see me hold Aryana. I wish she could see my braces. I wish she could meet Erin, I wish she got to see me this happy. I wish I could tell her about college. I wish I could brag about my 4.0. I wish I could tell her about my new job. I wish she could see how successful I am.
I wish I had asked her more about her life. Who was her first love, who was my grandfather? how did they meet, what happened to him? What happened with her and my Uncle Dan. Why did she name my mom Janine, why not Susan or Sarah, or something else? I wish I could have asked her about her dreams. I wish I could have asked her about her thoughts on love and life. What was her favorite drink, her favorite food. What was it like to grow up in the 40s?
I wish I could think about her without crying.
And I am so thankful that I had the chance to see her every single day. I am so thankful that she was only one room over from mine. I am so thankful that I told her I loved her as often as I did. I am so thankful that she told me she loved me as often as she did. I am so thankful I sat in her room and watched jeopardy with her. I am so thankful she got to see mine and Alex's apt in North Carolina. I am so thankful I had such a fantastic Grandmother. I am so thankful I got even 1 day with her. I am so thankful she moved in to watch me and Alex so my mother could go to college. I am so thankful that she never moved out, no matter how much I complained. I am so thankful she was so forgiving. I am so thankful that I am still alive, and I am so blessed to have loved someone, and been loved by someone so much, that the loss has changed me.
Today I tried to talk my girlfriend into going driving. She had hw, and we joked through text about how I was keeping her from studying. She studies so hard. She said she had to go, she told me she loved me, and said have a goodnight baby. I told her I loved her too, to sleep well, and have a goodnight sleep. Someday, her daughter will suffer her loss, like my mother suffered grandmas passing. Maybe Aryana will suffer my passing too, if I'm lucky enough to be in her life that long. I hope that if I am, that she will suffer like I do, I hope because it means I will have been as great as grandma. I am so thankful for the chance.
I love you so much Grandma, Gamma. I think about you, I cry for you, I will never forget you.
~Mark