You know what I hated the most about my grandmother dying last year. It was the sole fact that I didn’t see her at all, not even once before she passed. I heard her voice once, a week before. She called for my mom and that was it. A day before she passed away, I wanted to go see her, I was crying to go see her because I wanted to remind her that no matter what, that no matter how weird and fucked up our relationship has always been, I still love her and I’ll still miss her… that I’ll still notice her absence in my life. I couldn’t go though, because they weren’t letting any people below the age of eighteen inside of the hospital because of the swine flu thing that went on.
I remember how my mom told me that Friday, she was taking my grandmother to the doctor’s, but they stopped to buy her a juice. A woman looked at my grandma seated in the car and turned to look at my mom and said: “Spend as much time as you can with her, she won’t last long,”
By Saturday she was in the hospital, in a room all by herself and being examined on to find out what was wrong with her. By Sunday they knew that nothing could be done for her, by Monday all her kids surrounded her bed awaiting the inevitable. She was half awake and half asleep through most. It was a time that bonded all of them together, telling stories about the past, about their mother and who she was as a person, telling them about birthdays and festivals and just days when they lived with her and now.
My grandmother was never an easy person to visit. She loved us all, that was obvious and not obvious at the exact same time. Visiting her for Christmas was a hassle, she’d call over and over again reminding you to come by and when she sees your car parked in front of her house, she’d scream that she has no money and for us to go away. She also had the foulest mouth on a grandma that I’ve ever heard…
The next day, Tuesday, they called my mom and told her that she was awake and she had the opportunity to speak to her. I begged to go, but again I couldn’t because I had to stay home and take care of the kids, who were oblivious to what was going on. My mom left quickly and by the time she reached there, she was already asleep. The doctor was waiting on her to give my grandma the shot. I don’t remember what it’s called at the moment. My uncles, aunt and mom sat around her again, just waiting and waiting. At some point the silence was replaced by chattering once again. Just different stories being told and retold, everybody laughing, because I’d be lying if I said my grandma wasn’t crazy in her own way.
I guess it was around four o’ clock when it happened. My mom told me that my grandmother’s hand slipped, which startled them. They thought she woke up. Everyone turned to look at her and they saw her take her last breaths and a tear slipped down her cheek. She was gone.
By Friday we were sitting in church watching her sleeping in a white coffin. She really did look like she was just resting, just peacefully napping for the day. She looked beautiful to, as she always liked to make herself look. She was crazy, she loved to drink a lot, but she was one hell of a powerful and strong woman.
My grandmother knew she was sick. She knew for a long time already and he had a lot of pills and things to drink, but she never once took them. She didn’t trust them. She was more into using natural stuff. We don’t know just for how long she’s been suffering, but we know for how long she’s been resting. And I miss her. I don’t think about every single day, but when she pops into my mind, I feel the aching longing in my heart. I want to see her. I want to hug her. I want to hear her curse at me and tell me to leave just so she can come after me when I’m out the door. And most of all, I want to tell her that I love her. I love her very much.
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