042422

042422

 

Grandma's funeral is tomorrow.

There's a wound in my life. There's an awful hollow space in my heart where her golden smile belongs, which I keep reaching for and struggling to remember even now. I think about the softness of her hands, the smell and fine texture of her hair, the scent of her clothes, the way her forehead felt whenever I kissed it. I'm living on snippets of dear memories, but even they are so recent, and I fear the day they may fade.

 

Easter Monday.

I don't remember anything until around 2pm, when I was in the middle of packing several bags full of food and clothes, planning to stay the week, and suddenly my phone rings. It's Chris. "The nurses are taking grandma into hospice right now."

I dropped everything, threw on a coat, and ran out the door.

Ten minutes later I was standing in her doorway, sobbing and shaking and sick, as the nurses got her ready to go. Everything is a blur. I only see the yellow lights and the silhouettes of those strange women. I cannot even see grandma.

It took over an hour for the ambulance to arrive. I don't remember anything. What did I do? Where did I go? I don't know. I remember them rolling the stretcher in, and I remember Chris telling her that we love her. I heard her feebly say "I love you too."

I will regret, to the day I die, not having said it first.

I don't remember anything else. All I know is that, about three hours later, I was in the emergency room, throwing up bits of blood and my stomach in more pain than I've ever felt before. I couldn't even drink water without vomiting. It was raining. Blasé left me off at my apartment around 3am and I ran through the puddles with my socks on. I tried to eat a salad and had a mild allergic reaction and went to bed around 5 doped up on Benadryl.

 

Easter Tuesday.

I went to visit grandma around noon, I think. But I was there. I was shaking and nauseous the entire time, hating myself for not being able to stay longer than 2pm. Chris was there too. We both just cried and held her hands.

Mom called around 6pm. She was going to visit grandma. I wept, said I had visited briefly earlier, but was so sick I could not stay. I wanted to go again but did not think I would be able to. I wanted to so badly but my biggest fear was collapsing in her room and causing a commotion. So I said no, and called the ambulance again. The girl who answered hung up on me, then snubbed me the entire ride up to the hospital. I cried in the stretcher, hating myself, so sorry I was making everyone else hate me too.

I was only there four hours this time. My potassium was okay. My liver was not. They are worried that I have some sort of hepatic condition; I'm showing possible early signs of "nutmeg liver" and I have mild edema in my abdomen (the "weight gain" I haven't been able to explain or lose). I got home for midnight.

 

Easter Wednesday.

I packed my bags and went up to hospice for noon.

I sat on the daybed and read Anne Catherine Emmerich for hours, just watching grandma breathe, kissing her forehead, eating broccoli out of tiny glass bowls. I… I was happy just to be with her. It didn't feel final. I expected to be there at least another two days.

Mom and the boys showed up around 9pm. We said a rosary with her, mom choking up a few times. Grandma was so tachycardic. It was terrifying. We noticed she wasn't giving any urine output at all. Her eyes were rolled back. Her breathing had become agonal. Mom said these were the final stages; there was no recovering from this.

…

I went to sleep around midnight. I kept just watching her breathe.

I woke up a few times. I think the last time was around 5am. Like an asshole, I didn't kiss her goodnight once more. I was too tired to think straight. I thought I had more time.

6am. The nurses woke me up.

"She passed."

 

Time stopped.

 

I will never forget the song that was on the TV. "Spinning the Silk" by Chrysalis. The sound is burned into my ears, on loop forever, as I looked down at my dear grandmother who was no longer breathing.

I held her for three hours and cried.

I told her I loved her. I ran my fingers through her hair. My teardrops fell on her face, still warm, mouth open, no longer in pain. I kissed her chin, her cheeks, her neck, her hands, her nose. I loved her so much. I hated myself so much. Did she even know I loved her? Why didn't I show it more? Why had I been so lackadaisical in those final hours? Why hadn't I been more aware of death at her door? Why had I been so fcking casual?

The funeral director showed up. I didn't want to leave the room. I had to. I went back in about three times.

The last time, I stood behind the curtain, and I waved and I smiled with awful heartache, and I said, "bye grandma. I love you. I'll see you soon."

and that was it.

 

her funeral is tomorrow.

there's a hole in my heart.

 

i… don't know how to live without her. her death, that huge loss, has gouged a hole in everything and when I try to grasp at existence there's just empty air. a rift. a space that should be full. a place that should be held. a bedroom that should have her in it, but it's already empty. mom wasted no time. I stood in there today, the floor completely bare where just a week ago she had laid for over a year, where we had slept together for three entire decades, all of it gone within 24 hours of her last breath. it's whiplash. I found myself doubting my own memories. were they real? did it really happen? why is there no proof?

but the balloons and string lights from her birthday are still taped to the closet door. a few fell onto the floor. empty. quiet. the shades are down. the little teddy bear I bought her in 2006 is still on her dresser. I want to sob. I want to put it on her grave. in her coffin. I must go get it. god bury me with her, bury me with her too.

 

when she died, when I started to call the family, a song came on the tv.

"the song is over, but the melody lingers on."

the lyrics are about her.

there was a vase of little plastic orchids on her windowsill.

I went looking for a black dress at goodwill on saturday, and… I found one. just one, long sleeves, perfect. white orchids all up and down the front. I cried.

I'm wearing her jewelry with it. I slept in her pajamas last night. I have the blanket she died in on my couch in the living room. I keep smelling it as I walk by, remembering.

mom put some old avon perfume on grandma hours before she died. "tabu." so old it smelled like death. how ironic. now death smells like perfume to me.

I couldn't get the scent off my hands for days. I have the bottle by my bedroom door.

I ate the last two puddings from her room. I was so sad and sick I threw them up. I'm sorry.

I want to bury myself in her arms and weep but I can't anymore, she's gone, I--

I can't take it, god, I can't take it I can't

how am I supposed to live without you…

 

I'm singing for the funeral.

since I'm an established cantor, I got to finagle the song list.

we're singing "heart of jesus," "be not afraid," and "I am the bread of life" from the official list… the first one was her favorite, she dearly loved the second one, and the third has this soaring chorus of hope that I personally really need to remember.

but. then I requested two more.

"anima christi." the one that aches with beauty. the prayer she taught me and that I still love to say, the prayer taped to the wall next to my front door. I'm singing it for her.

and.

"my life goes on in endless song…"

the hospice television said that the melody lingers on. the song of her life is over, with the dawn she was gone, but… but the melody lingers. somehow the song is still endless. and I cannot keep from singing.

so I will. for her. for you, grandma. I love you.

 

did I ever tell her enough? did she know I loved her?

when I had to move out because my mental and physical health were collapsing, did… did she think I hated her?

she felt abandoned. god I am so sorry. can she ever forgive me?

I tried to stay, lord knows I tried, but I just… I would just cry, and hurt myself, and upset everyone, and upset her. it wasn't right.

I visited. I visited so much.

that one week, for her birthday, I packed my bags and stayed for like eight solid days. honestly it was wonderful. I just got to be with her. I barely ate anything, I was sick as a dog, but I don’t care. I was with her. I would gladly live that week a hundred times over just to be with her.

 

I have a photo of her sleeping in bed, after her birthday party, the room lit softly with those dinky little string lights I put up, and it's… there's such peace. she looks so fragile, so real. I'm in tears just remembering it. god I love her so much. I always have. I always did. I always will.

I started taking photos of her every day I visited, near the end, not knowing when it would be the last one.

when she was still mostly conscious, I'd ask her to smile.

and… one time, one time, she blew a kiss at the camera. I have the photo. there's this light in her eyes, this joyful playful sparkle, and… it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

that, and the first photo I took, the first time I asked her to smile, and her eyes are so soft and loving and her hands are folded over her chest and I just… I love her. I love her.

I'm going to get those two photos printed into posters and I am putting them on my walls. I want to see her every single day. every day. she will be with me, in my eyes and in my heart, until the day I die.

 

I brought her holy communion every single sunday. I only missed one when I had covid. but otherwise, every sunday, I brought jesus to her. the last time was right before she went into hospice. and I thank god I had that honor. I thank god he was with her for that final journey.

 

I need to remember her voice.

why is it so hard?

it's hard to remember most people's voices, people I've lost. I only have little snippets, tiny loops that play. grandpa laughing in the kitchen. aunt dorothy's raspy drawl.

and grandma, grandma, why can't I remember? you spoke to me every single day. but I can't conjure up the sound. why?

god, help me remember, please. please.

I remember almost nothing from my childhood.

I remember she used to wear those big blond wigs. her fancy pearled pastel sweaters. I can smell the perfume, white diamonds. I remember going to church with her, easter mass. but she was distant back then, somehow.

only once she got sick did she and I become truly inseparable. I took care of her 24/7.

I washed her, fed her, bandaged her, combed her hair, brushed her teeth, gave her meds, everything. it was the best time of my life.

then I had to move out and my brothers took over and everything went downhill.

some days I honestly wish I had never ever ever left.

 

but…

but now, she's gone, and I'm not there. and THANK GOD.

I would die, if I was still there. I would.

now that house is trashed. dishes piling up scummy. cat hair everywhere. clothes unwashed in piles. no light, no fresh air. disgusting, stagnant, ruined. no one cleaning up like I did. the place in shambles. it was a crime for her to be STUCK THERE for so long. it makes me so angry, i could scream.

but she didn't die there. thanks be to God. she didn't die in a decrepit house surrounded by garbage. she was at peace, clean, watched over, safe...

so am I, weirdly. somehow.

now I'm sitting in my red bedroom with chaos 0 sleeping next to me and it's quiet and I hear the cars driving me outside in the cool summer twilight. and I wish I could share it with her.

it's so weird. she was my grandmother, but also my mother, and my sister, and my best friend, and as weird as it sound, I was platonically in love with her. like I will never find a girlfriend that could take her place in my heart. that position, of "I want to share my life with you," went to her. to grandma. I wanted to show her this apartment so bad. I offered to move her medical bed into my room up here just so I could give her peace, and take care of her. but it was impossible. god I wish it hadn't been. instead she was stuck in that awful filthy cat-spit room with the paint peeling off the walls and no human contact and so much dirt. god I wanted to cry when I walked in there.

but I was never myself, in that house. near the end, once I had my own apartment, my very "sense of self" started to collapse when I walked in those doors, and into the presence of my three brothers, and the musty echoes of past trauma. my very identity rotted. and I became unable to be with her.

that's what I regret the most.

before I moved out, when I had nowhere else to go, yes I would be sick and miserable all the time but when I was terrified and sobbing I was still myself and I was WITH HER like that.

once I moved out, no. my brain was on "standby." it was "soon I can be safe." and I could never turn that off long enough to settle into the room with her. no, a cat might come in. no, chris might come in. no, it wasn't safe. and it ripped us apart.

she thought I didn't love her. oh god tell her that I did, tell her I am so sorry I never wanted to leave you that was my biggest fear in the world.

 

but the night she died, I was the only one in the room.

she didn't die alone.

I loved her.

I was there.

 

like a bitch, I didn't keep vigil. I didn't stay awake. I was too bloody careless. I fell asleep and an hour later she was gone.

why didn't I stay awake?

it was hope, stupid hope, that I'd have another day with her. but I never thought I'd not have another day. mentally I didn't even consider that I would say my final words to her, that I would have one last night. it was incomprehensible. I couldn't even imagine losing her.

then the nurses.

"she passed."

and she was gone.

 

that's the clearest memory I have. looking at her face, mouth open, eyes closed, hair soft and golden around her head like a halo, like the wind of heaven blowing it back.

she wasn't breathing.

it was surreal. it still doesn't feel real. it's not possible. it wasn't possible. she was gone. she can't ever be gone, it's not possible.

but it would be a lie if I said I felt she was still here.

even deep down, where I want to believe that, when I wake up, I'll be back in that old yellow bed with her, covers up to my head, her old nightstand right there, no oxygen machine in sight, no cancer diagnosis in my hands. her light snoring. the sunlight coming through the shades. little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. engelbert humperdinck on the tape player, even.

but I don't remember waking up.

I don't remember seeing her wake up.

I stood by her bed, alone, 630 in the morning on thursday, hearing "evergreen" on the television and looking at her old teeth and wondering why she wasn't breathing. how the world had just… stopped. why life had just tilted sideways and I was falling off.

I talked to her a lot. I don't remember what I said verbatim. but I told her I loved her. I said I would miss her. I said I would see her soon.

as I walked out the door the funeral man rolled the gurney down the hall, brick red

I don't remember walking across the parking lot

or driving home

or where I even went after that

I don't remember anything.

 

easter friday.

I slept for twelve hours.

I didn't want to eat

I don't remember the day

 

easter saturday.

I threw up all day.

miserable, sobbing, wanting to die

I went to church shaking, barely able to stand

mom took me up the old house afterwards and the room was empty

it was fukcing empty, why was it empty,

just the balloons,

god I want to die

I binged and purged and cried and there was more blood in the bowl and I don't care anymore

but

when mom left me off

she came up to see my apartment and

she sounded so happy.

it was so strange.

when she left I drank my potassium water and I put on grandma's pajamas and I pulled chaos 0 to my heart and I held my crucifix and I said my night prayers and I went to sleep.

I knew I had to make it until at least tuesday.

 

easter sunday, part two. divine mercy. doubting thomas. side wound summer. today.

blood sugar roller coaster all morning. I was eating candy canes in pieces just to keep from passing out. but I was determined to go to two masses. so I did.

I got grandma's funeral all planned.

I sang the chaplet and I gave a good confession. mentioned I was suicidal.

both mary anns told me to hang in there; they had both lost their husbands, they knew this wound well. they told me to take care of myself like I had taken care of grandma. I said that's the hard part.

the altar is covered in lilies and hyacinths and rhododendrons and tulips.

I'm so glad grandma's funeral will be colored by their beauty. I've always associated her with easter, in my heart.

 

i…

the day before she died, I

I started to say the divine mercy chaplet and I was interrupted somehow

I never got to finish it

I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that.

god help me.

from now until the day I die I should say a chaplet for her every day, specifically for her. every day. as penance for my asinine laxity. I could have done so much more for her.

I thought I had more time.

some poor excuse for a celebi I am.

but I love her.

even though I suck at life, and I'm a selfish proud disgusting bastard and I get so distracted and careless and stupid, god knows I still loved her and I will FOREVER love her even though I am dumb, and wretched, and wrecked to pieces by losing her and realizing it's all my fault. if I hadn't been so freaking stupid she could have lived longer.

but no. just like with grandpa.

the day I left, everything collapsed.

…

god forgive me. grandma forgive me.

 

 

divine mercy monday. saint mark's day.

grandma's funeral.

I'm wearing my orchid dress.

I will eat my broccoli breakfast in the little glass bowl, just like I did the morning she died.

I knew it would be the last meal I'd share with her, and I treasured it. I had made it the night before, when she was alive. it sat by her bed as everything changed. I will think of that forever.

I will wear her jewelry and I will

I

I will see her in the coffin

god I didn't even think about that

I am

I get to see her face again.

I get to see her one more time before they bury her like a seed in the earth

like a flower bulb waiting for spring

I get to see her in the green suit with her hair in her old fancy wig and

and holding the rosary I put in her hands when she died.

I get to see her once more.

I get to touch her hair. I get to kiss her forehead.

(it won't be warm anymore. won't be so soft. but I remember. I will always remember)

I get to sing for her.

the melody lingers on

spinning the silk

evergreen

grace is

above the clouds

how can I keep from singing?

be not afraid, jesus will raise you up on the last day, you are in His Heart forever, I promise, I know this, it's only joy for you now, I will pay your purgatory if He lets me, I want to meet you again in heaven soon. in time. in the proper time. I wish I had more time. but I don't.

all I have is this.

soul of christ, sanctify me, and weeping into the microphone.

watching them place you gently into the grave with your husband.

I will buy you the biggest bouquet of flowers. I will decorate your grave as well as I can. I will try. I must. I want to plant flowers there. irises, your favorite. wouldn't that be something. I don't know if it's even possible. but I can try. I will try, somehow.

I will see you one last time for now, and then

then just the gravestone.

1932-2022.

and the new dirt.

and me standing there.

for how long? how long will they let me?

 

can I visit every day? if I don't have a car, can I make a pilgrimage? every sunday at least.

I want to sleep there one night. wouldn't that be crazy. put a sleeping bag in front of a tomb and just rest there. not eternally, not yet. but the closeness. the hope. memento mori. one day, soon enough.

what a feeling. how strangely complete it feels. to make the graveyard part of my everyday life. it feels… right, somehow. that tie to death, to love, to eternal life. how strange.

I suppose it was time. god knows what we all need. god knew it was her time, and mine, in different ways.

I miss her. god knows I miss her. and I always will. but it is only temporary! remember! remember!!

there is life after death! there is a final trumpet! there is a resurrection! there is heaven, and hope, and jesus christ Himself, and reunion and rejoicing and love unending!

and one day I will hold her in my arms again

and I will laugh with joy overflowing

and we will be together with god forever

but until then

until then

I wait.

I ache and I mourn and I struggle and I love and I regret and I dream and I wait.

god knows it'll be soon enough. I know I'm not long for this world.

but I can't rush it.

if I'm not dead yet, god has a reason for me to stick around.

even if it's just to sing her funeral.

but I must live. for her. for Him. for love.

 

pray for me, grandma.

I love you.

I'll see you soon.