When we were growing up

When we were growing up we never lived more than 20 or 30 minutes from any of our grandparents.  My mother took us to visit every weekend.  We spent a few hours visiting each one every Saturday.  It was our traditional Saturday routine. When I was a young man…maybe 20 or so it became apparent that I was going to lose my first grandparent.  It was emotionally distressing and traumatic on many levels.  I did not know how to cope with death; I had no tools or experience with it.  I had never lost a family member or a friend and the whole experience was new to me.

I received a call from my mother one night; I don’t remember what day of the week, just that it was very late.  She told my that Grandma Pearl had suffered a heart attack and things looked pretty bad.  She asked me to drive down and meet the family at the hospital.  I can recall it as clear as if it was yesterday.  I don’t think I ever moved so fast in my life.  I was out the door in a flash and on my way to the hospital in Stockton.  When I arrived I went in to see her and she did not look like the person I remembered growing up.  She had changed a lot over the years and had been losing her self in Alzheimer’s for some years, but even with all that taken into account she was different.  She looked like she was dying.

She looked at me and she smiled and then said….”Thank you for coming Wayne”.  Wayne was the name of one of my uncles and he and she had been estranged for many years.  I was a little flustered and did not to quite what to do.  After a moment or two’s hesitation I just said “I love you” She began to cry as did I.  I moved quickly towards her and put my arms around her.  I remember holding her so tight….I was afraid that if I loosened up just a little she might pull back a tad and recognize me.  We just sat there for some time in my arms crying.  I kept telling her over and over that I had to come, that I had missed her so, and that I always loved her.  

After a while the emotions began to wane and she stilled.  I backed away quickly but it did not seem to matter.  She was not even looking at me anymore.  The moment of clarity that I had experienced was over.  I left the room and went down to the waiting room down the hall.  Hours past and family members came and went.  It seemed that we were everywhere.  In the room, in the cafeteria, in the waiting room….you name it.  But me, I could not move.  I just sat there deep in despair.  I was in agony over lying to my grandmother in her last days.  I was scared that the real Wayne might show up, although I knew intellectually he was far away and likely did not even know.  I was angry at myself for what seemed a betrayal.  A few family members tried to talk to me about the situation but gave up after a few minutes.  I guess they assumed I was swallowed up in my grief and since I had been alone in the room with grandma I had no person to share my feelings with.  I was afraid to tell anybody for fear of being judged. I did not want to add any more drama to a family crisis that carried more than enough traumas in and of itself.

Grandma had a series of heart attack in the late afternoon.  It was these that would take her life shortly thereafter.  Everyone was gathered around her except me.  I was outside the door listening, waiting; I don’t know what I was doing.  I heard her ask where is Billy.  Why isn’t Billy here?  Things like that.  My mother and sister both came out a few times and asked me to come in the room.  I just could not.  Not only because of the charade I had pulled earlier……I was afraid of death, afraid of losing someone I loved, scared of what I might see.  I remember the sounds of her death, the sounds of her last breaths, it was horrible.  I knew it was over when I heard my mother and her sisters wailing, other people were crying.  I stood up and practically ran out of the hospital.  I remember crying most of the way home.  The phone was ringing when I got there.  I did not answer.  Later that night my sister showed up at the door.  She said I was a monster for not saying my goodbyes to grandma.  She told me that grandma died needing me at her side.  I lost it; I was just a blubbering fool from there on in.  My sister smelled blood and dove in for the kill.  I don’t remember much of what she said except that everyone was there for her except me and that in her delusional state she even thought Wayne had been there, but of course nobody believed her.

I did not speak to anybody on that side of the family for almost a year.  Mother and sister included.  My sister and I reconciled and through her I was able to put things back on track with my mother.  It took some further time to put things right with the others and with some normalcy never returned.  So much time has passed and I still have not told them the truth of what happened that night.  It has never seemed right and I don’t want to work up old wounds.  I don’t know if I’m right or wrong in this but one thing I do know, at least now in retrospect with a few years under my belt.  I know she understands.