Today, for whatever reason, I’ve been thinking of my grandma a lot. It’s around this time that she passed away in 2008, so I guess it makes sense. It’s hard to believe that it has been 4 years now since she passed away. I miss her so much. I wish that she were here to see Caden. She would have loved him so much. I wish that I could pick up the phone and call her and just hear her voice. There were so many things I took for granted while she was here. I should have taken advantage of her being here and gone to see her more the last year of her life. I wish that I would have called her more. I wish I wouldn’t have been too busy for her. The pain is still as fresh as it was the day she died. I don’t think I will ever forget a single detail of that day.
There is one thing that I am thankful for though. The night before she died, I was able to see her and tell her that I loved her. I had ordered some wedding invitations and had them shipped to her house. They had come in that day and she called to tell me to come by and pick them up. I had gone out to eat with my mom and Stephen, so on the way home we stopped by and I ran in to pick them up. I was only there about 5 minutes, but I remember she looked very frail and tired. I asked her if she was ok, and she told me she didn’t really feel well but that she was fine. I told her to call me if she needed to and she said ok. I hugged her and told her that I loved her before I walked out the door. Then I left. And that was the last time I spoke to her.
The next day I was at work and for some reason I decided to call her. I think the first time I called was around 11am. No answer. So I gave her a little while because she could have walked out to pick up the newspaper or something. I got busy and didn’t call her back for a few hours. It was probably around 3-4ish before I called her back and still didn’t get an answer. I called two or three more times back to back in case she was in the bathroom or sleeping. She didn’t have voicemail so leaving a message wasn’t an option. When I still didn’t get an answer I knew something was wrong. I knew in the back of my mind what it was, but didn’t want to believe it. She had been sick and declining in health for about 2 years now. I grabbed my things and left work early and drove to her house.
When I got to her house, there was no answer when I knocked on the door. I didn’t have a key to her front door and the screen door to the back door was locked so I couldn’t get in the house. There were no lights on and it was completely silent inside the house. I knew. I called Stephen, who worked right across the tracks from her house and told him I needed him to come there right away. I continued banging on the door and ringing the doorbell in hopes that she would appear and fuss at me for making so much noise. She didn’t come.
Stephen pulled up in the driveway sideways and immediately came to me. I had already called my mom and dad, who lived about 45 minutes away at the time, and my sister and brother in law. Charles, my brother in law, and my sister weren’t far behind Stephen. Charles and Stephen broke through the plexiglass screen door on the back porch and used my key to get into the house. My sister and I refused to go inside the house because we didn’t want to see her like that. It was not long before Stephen emerged and shook his head. He was on the phone with 911. I collapsed to the ground. After that it was a whirlwind. I remember smoking cigarette after cigarette and just crying and crying and crying.
I remember the ambulances and the police cars. I remember the neighbor coming out and giving his condolences. I sat inside my father in law’s truck and watched people walking in and out of the house.
I went home before they came to get her body. I didn’t want to see them take her out of the house in a body bag. Stephen was really upset as well. I didn’t ask him anything about what he saw or what he did when he went inside. The only thing that he told me was where he found her. And that image has been stuck in my head permanently. I wish he never would have even told me that.
Even though I know that it wasn’t my fault, I somehow keep blaming myself. I know it sounds silly because everybody dies and when you get older it’s expected, but still…. I had moved out only a year earlier. What if I would have still been living there? Would I have been able to do something? Would it have changed anything? She had asked me a few days earlier to take her to get her meds refilled and I had forgotten. She hadn’t reminded me. Did she run out of something that she needed that caused her death? I tried to be the best caregiver for her that I could and help her as much as I could, but I still find myself asking if it was enough or if there was something I could have done to prolong the inevitable.
I guess I’ll always feel this way. 4 years hasn’t changed much in the way of how I feel. I don’t even know why I’m writing all of this. This is supposed to be my weight loss journey blog, but yet here I am depressing everybody with this chronicle of the day my grandma passed away. I guess I just needed to get it out. I’ve never talked about that day like this. I have never replayed it out loud. Maybe that’s why I’m writing it. Maybe I need to. I don’t know. I just know that I miss her and I would give anything to have her back.
To follow this up, I’m also fearful that I’m going to be going through this same thing with my dad any day now. My dad is on the heart transplant list and he is on continuous IV meds to help his heart perform well enough to keep him functioning. He has been on the list since September and seems to be doing ok, but I’m hoping for a heart to hurry up and come. I am not ready to lose him yet. I’m not ready for that pain. I want him to live. He’s only 62. He has grandkids. One granddaughter is about to graduate from high school and go off to college, one granddaughter is only 9, and then he has a brand new grandson that I don’t want him to miss out on. I want Caden to be able to spend time with him and to make memories with him that he won’t forget about when he is older. I want Dad to be able to enjoy Caden too. He loves that little boy and he is so excited about taking him hunting when he gets old enough. Caden is only about to turn 2, so he has a while before that will happen. I need Dad to be around a while longer.
They said growing up would be tough and that along with it come more responsibilities. Nobody really prepares you for the fact that as you grow, so do your parents and grandparents. And with that comes loss that is inevitable. I mean, I know that we all know that eventually everyone dies….but when you’re younger you just think, “oh they will be around for a long time.” Well, “a long time” runs out fast. Faster than you can ever imagine.
So with all that said, I’m hoping that 2012 will be a year of healing. Physical healing for my dad and emotional healing for me.
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