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August 28, 2005
My Grandmother Passed Away...
My grandmother passed away a couple days ago. It wasn't unexpected, but it was certainly sudden. And with that, I have lost my last grandparent.
My therapist says I stuff my feelings. That may be true, because while I've felt sad, I haven't really felt especially sad, as in I haven't really expressed my feelings. Somehow I find them inadequate... just as words are inadequate to express how I feel. I feel... hollow inside. Resigned, perhaps, to the fact that death must eventually take us all.
When my grandfather died, I was truly in denial. My parents called me and said I needed to come home, that it was time. And I just wouldn't believe it. I wasn't going to lose my grandfather. They were WRONG! (And for once, they weren't.)
But it was okay, I told myself. It would be a long time before I would lose another grandparent. And sure enough, I was right. I lost my grandfather in 1994. It was nine years later when I lost my grandmother.
I didn't take the loss well, but I didn't take it as badly either. There was a long period of time in which to accept it. When she finally passed, I had come to accept what happened. But it still didn't make it any easier. I told myself it was okay... that it would be a long time before I would lose another grandparent. But I knew I was lying to myself. It wouldn't be a long time.
And so came the news on Friday. My reaction truly wasn't of sadness, but resignation. Just a few days ago, she was in a wheelchair, talking with me in the backyard. And now she's gone. And I'm not really sure why... but I am resigned to the fact that she's left this world and gone to a better place. I have become resigned to the fact that my last grandparent has left this earth.
And it leaves my world very hollow. I am happy for her. But it's hard. Grandparents, at least for me, are physical reminders of the past... of summers spent walking through the Burger King drive-thru and playing the Oregon lottery. In some ways, it's not really my grandparents that I will miss, but my childhood.
My grandmother was an independent person, sometimes fiercely so. She lived alone, in an apartment in Kelso, right till the very end. But my first memories of her were in Walla Walla. She came to live with my parents, who were in college and trying to raise a baby (and make another along the way.) But when my parents moved to Seattle, she moved to Longview, and eventually into her own apartment in Kelso. There she sold Shaklee products, took care of the elderly, and eventually retired. But she was still quite active. It wasn't uncommon to drop by her apartment on the way back from Oregon or California only to find that she wasn't around. Sometimes she was at church. Sometimes she would volunteer at the rest stop to give out free coffee to travelers. Over and over we would ask her when she was going to move to Seattle, to be closer to us. But she resisted as long as she could.
Sometimes, Grandma would say things that could only come from "the mind of Nanny." That's what we used to jokingly call her, because she was so much like Nanny from Count Duckula. To make matters worse, she fell down, and ended up with her arm in a sling. I hope we didn't hurt her feelings too much. It was always out of love.
In the end, we all die. But everyone of us lives on in the memories of those who love us. I have many memories, old and new, clear and unclear. I remember taking Grandma to Red Lobster for her birthday when nobody else could make it down. I remember travelling with her by Greyhound bus. I remember chickens laying eggs, and finding out that there was a car on the $10 bill. I remember playing Bingo, and buying ice cream. I remember reading her the newspaper, and sending a letter to Willard Scott. I remember the solution to everything was a product from Shaklee. And everything wrong with the universe was related to the timing of your bowels.
I remember driving her home on my way down to California. I remember her meeting my future wife on the way back up. I remember taking her to Wendy's, and to A&W, and to Red Lobster again. I remember so many times when I would drive up to her apartment, and she would be sitting outside waiting.
And that's how I want to remember her. When she died on Friday, the family came together and said their goodbyes. But I didn't. I didn't go. I didn't want to.
Because I wanted to remember her the way I do.
Posted by March at August 28, 2005 02:56 PM