There Is No Love That Lasts Forever
One
Tears slid down the slope of Grandma’s nose and landed in her lap as I tried hard not to notice her hands shaking more than they usually did. All around us family members sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs, each of them waiting on their turn to say goodbye to Grandpa.
Grandpa had been suffering from lung cancer for as long as I could remember, but it didn’t get bad until last year. The last time he’d been to the doctor the man had said he only had around six months left. That was exactly five months and seventeen days ago.
Everyone looked up as Aunt Mary shuffled out into the hall, shoulders shaking while she sobbed. We all reached out to pat her on the back and comfort her, but she continued to be inconsolable. We grew silent, each of us waiting for someone to get up. Grandma reached over and squeezed my hand lightly.
“Ellie.” she warbled through her tears. “Maybe you should go next. I know he’d really like to see you.” A lump formed at the top of my throat, hard as a rock and impossible to swallow, making my voice silent.
My feet carried me out of the chair and across the hall into Grandpa’s hospital room, where he was lying on the little bed. Even though I’d seen him plenty of times in the past few months, the air was still punched from my lungs every time I was alone with him.
He was so frail, as if a single heavy breath could blow him apart. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping because he wasn’t snoring. I tried to clear my throat but that blasted lump was still there and refused to be moved. I sat down in the chair that had been positioned at Grandpa’s side, desperately trying to choke down the lump.
“Grandpa?” I croaked. His eyes snapped open and focused on me, his thin, dry lips curving up into a smile.
“Ellie.” He whispered in a hoarse voice that I’d never heard come out of him before. “My, you’ve grown tall.” I laughed a little at this, because there was no way I could’ve grown taller since the last time we’d see each other.
“But Grandpa you just saw me last week.”
“Ah, but quite a lot can change in a week, wouldn’t you agree?” I did agree. So many things go on in a week, both good and bad. Silence spread through the air like an invisible poison, crushing us with its toxicity. I fidgeted with a loose thread in my sweater and looked out the window, hoping that some kind of conversation would fling itself against the glass for us.
“How are you doing today?” Was all I could manage. How lame. Grandpa didn’t seem to mind though, for he brightened a bit, and struggled on his weak arms into a seated position.
“You know, I’m doing alright, given the circumstances. You’re the very first person to ask me that; everybody else just comes in here either sobbing or so stunned they don’t say anything at all.” This provoked the invisible hands that controlled me to pull the strings around my lips into a wide smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced with a crumpled paper expression.
“What am I going to do without you, Grandpa?” I squeezed out, the lump expanding down to my stomach and out into the caverns of my mouth, filling me with despair that was bitter like coffee grounds and just as dark.
Grandpa looked at me with a sadness that didn’t suit him, and I felt terrible for causing him pain. Acid rain poured down our faces, burning holes into our clothes, our skin, and the floor.
“I could ask you the same question, Ellie. Don’t tell the others, but I secretly feel I’ve always been closest to you.”
“Don’t say that, please.” I begged, the skin from the backs of my hands sizzling and peeling from the water on my cheeks.
Looking for a distraction, I looked around the room at the cards, flowers, and balloons that various family members and friends had left for him. There was a whole sea of construction paper origami shapes from Aunt Sheila’s seven kids surrounded by cards of all varieties, including ones that had the words Get Well Soon in cheery bright yellow letters. In the center of the medium sized nightstand next to Grandpa was a plain plastic flower pot. The plant inhabiting the pot was small but beautiful, with green leaves curling all around it. A few of the leaves arched out over the sides, hanging upside down and looking very similar to little hearts.
There was one leaf the stuck out the most though. It was facing the opposite way and wasn’t as green, with small holes and snares marring its otherwise normal face. I reached out and felt it, running my fingers along its imperfections.
“What do you think?” Grandpa asked me, veering the topic away from him, thankfully. Usually when he asked me what I thought it irritated me, why do people out of the blue just ask things like that?, but nothing he said could irritate me now.
What did I think? My thoughts were angry, for one. Angry that we were here, now, talking to each other for perhaps the last time. Angry that he wasn’t angry for having been given such a fate. My thought were also sad, probably more sad than angry, that this illness had taken my Grandpa and mashed him in its hands, crushing him into this withered shell of a man, turning his voice into a thin, reedy echo of its former self.
“I think it’s not fair.” I murmured at last, cursing my eyes for the rain that leaked from them once more. Grandpa took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. I had to hold back a flinch as his wasted lips brushed against my skin, dampened with my tears.
“I know it’s not fair, and as much as I know you hate this expression life isn’t always fair.” Life isn’t always fair. He was right, I did hate that expression.
“But what about Grandma? This is killing her.” Grandpa hesitated a bit, unsure of what to say next.
“She’ll just have to forget about me. I don’t want her to be sad when I’m gone, it’d be much better if she moved on, maybe found a new hobby. Just so long as she’s happy.” For some unknown reason, I felt a flash of fury rip through my veins as he finished talking. This was not how my Grandpa was supposed to be acting; he was supposed to be angry and mad, bitter at the fact that he was going to leave everything behind, nervous at not knowing what would happen after he passed. It infuriated me to know that he was so calm about the whole thing.
“That’s it? You want her to move on, forget you?” I was yelling and though I tried to stop I found that I could not. “You want her to get a new hobby? How could you say something so heartless, so mean! You should see the way she acts when she’s not here. She acts like she’s made of glass or something.” We all sort of acted like we were made of glass, each of us gliding around, unaware of the other entities surrounding us, our faces frozen in varying expressions of sadness and numbness.
“Soon you’ll come to realize, Ellie, that there is no love that lasts forever. We all have to forget the ones we care about sooner or later. Your grandmother understands this, whether she wants to admit it right now or not.” I didn’t want to hear any of this. I wanted him to be the grandfather I’d always known, the one that told me funny stories as a distraction while he pulled splinters out of my hands and feet the day I decided it was high time I learned how to climb a tree, the one who would let me watch horror movies after mom said I couldn’t so long as I promised I could handle it. Not the man he was now, lain out on this slab waiting for the grim reaper to come and whisk him away from his problems, the one who’d given up.
I couldn’t take another minute in the stuffy hospital room. I stood up, my hand sliding out from his weak grasp and started toward the door. I was so frustrated I didn’t even turn back when I heard him say he loved me, I just kept going, out the door, down the hall, through the hospital’s revolving doors and out into the parking lot to wait in the car for mom to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grandpa died three days after I yelled at him in the hospital. I never did get the chance to tell him that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I holed up for days in my room refusing to leave for anything or anyone. Grandma did the same thing, which made me feel even more guilty to see how upset she was.
For the first few days after he passed away mom decided it was best to leave me alone, partly because I think she just wanted to be alone herself, but after five day of me sulking about, she came into my lair to set me straight.
“Look,” she began, and I knew that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant talk, for she only started lectures with the word ‘look’ if she was upset. “We’re all sad about Grandpa, but I think it’s time you come out of your room and start trying to move on. Your Aunt Dawn and Uncle Liam are here from Georgia to help with the funeral plans, and I want you to come and join us.” I looked up from my computer screen, my room wobbling from tears I couldn’t let myself shed, not in front of mom.
My mom was a mess. Her hair was dirty and her clothes were wrinkled, like she’d been sleeping for days and had just woken up. She looked tense and jumpy.
“I don’t want to help with the funeral plans.” I turned back to the screen; scrolling down through an ocean of emails I had no intention of reading.
“Please, Ellie, come downstairs and help us. I feel that if you participate you might find some closure.”
“Mom, I don’t need closure, I’m fine.” I was far from fine, but there was no reason to let her know that.
“Honey, it’s obvious that you’re not fine. I know you were his favorite, and I know you miss him, but we all have to move on at some point. Even your grandma is helping us prepare. She’s chosen the loveliest poem to be read at the funeral service. Your cousin Sean is going to recite it.” Mom just wasn’t going to let this go.
“Fine, you know what? I think I will help you. Like you said I probably do need closure.” I did need closure, but this was not the way to get it. I followed mom out into the hall and down the stairs, where my aunt and uncle were waiting in the living room next to my stone grandmother. Papers were strewn about the coffee table, phone numbers and the like jotted down on post it notes.
I took a seat next to Grandma and watched them all get to work. There never asked for my input, or grandma’s either, which was a little irritating seeing as how mom had wanted me to be present for this. Clearing my throat, I turned to Grandma.
“Hey, Grandma.” She looked at me without really seeing me, her eyes glassy. “I – I was just wondering how you were?”
“I think I’m doing better, though I’ll never quite be as alright as I’d like I don’t think.” I nodded, knowing that none of us would surely ever recover as we’d like to.
Grandpa had been suffering from lung cancer for as long as I could remember, but it didn’t get bad until last year. The last time he’d been to the doctor the man had said he only had around six months left. That was exactly five months and seventeen days ago.
Everyone looked up as Aunt Mary shuffled out into the hall, shoulders shaking while she sobbed. We all reached out to pat her on the back and comfort her, but she continued to be inconsolable. We grew silent, each of us waiting for someone to get up. Grandma reached over and squeezed my hand lightly.
“Ellie.” she warbled through her tears. “Maybe you should go next. I know he’d really like to see you.” A lump formed at the top of my throat, hard as a rock and impossible to swallow, making my voice silent.
My feet carried me out of the chair and across the hall into Grandpa’s hospital room, where he was lying on the little bed. Even though I’d seen him plenty of times in the past few months, the air was still punched from my lungs every time I was alone with him.
He was so frail, as if a single heavy breath could blow him apart. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping because he wasn’t snoring. I tried to clear my throat but that blasted lump was still there and refused to be moved. I sat down in the chair that had been positioned at Grandpa’s side, desperately trying to choke down the lump.
“Grandpa?” I croaked. His eyes snapped open and focused on me, his thin, dry lips curving up into a smile.
“Ellie.” He whispered in a hoarse voice that I’d never heard come out of him before. “My, you’ve grown tall.” I laughed a little at this, because there was no way I could’ve grown taller since the last time we’d see each other.
“But Grandpa you just saw me last week.”
“Ah, but quite a lot can change in a week, wouldn’t you agree?” I did agree. So many things go on in a week, both good and bad. Silence spread through the air like an invisible poison, crushing us with its toxicity. I fidgeted with a loose thread in my sweater and looked out the window, hoping that some kind of conversation would fling itself against the glass for us.
“How are you doing today?” Was all I could manage. How lame. Grandpa didn’t seem to mind though, for he brightened a bit, and struggled on his weak arms into a seated position.
“You know, I’m doing alright, given the circumstances. You’re the very first person to ask me that; everybody else just comes in here either sobbing or so stunned they don’t say anything at all.” This provoked the invisible hands that controlled me to pull the strings around my lips into a wide smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced with a crumpled paper expression.
“What am I going to do without you, Grandpa?” I squeezed out, the lump expanding down to my stomach and out into the caverns of my mouth, filling me with despair that was bitter like coffee grounds and just as dark.
Grandpa looked at me with a sadness that didn’t suit him, and I felt terrible for causing him pain. Acid rain poured down our faces, burning holes into our clothes, our skin, and the floor.
“I could ask you the same question, Ellie. Don’t tell the others, but I secretly feel I’ve always been closest to you.”
“Don’t say that, please.” I begged, the skin from the backs of my hands sizzling and peeling from the water on my cheeks.
Looking for a distraction, I looked around the room at the cards, flowers, and balloons that various family members and friends had left for him. There was a whole sea of construction paper origami shapes from Aunt Sheila’s seven kids surrounded by cards of all varieties, including ones that had the words Get Well Soon in cheery bright yellow letters. In the center of the medium sized nightstand next to Grandpa was a plain plastic flower pot. The plant inhabiting the pot was small but beautiful, with green leaves curling all around it. A few of the leaves arched out over the sides, hanging upside down and looking very similar to little hearts.
There was one leaf the stuck out the most though. It was facing the opposite way and wasn’t as green, with small holes and snares marring its otherwise normal face. I reached out and felt it, running my fingers along its imperfections.
“What do you think?” Grandpa asked me, veering the topic away from him, thankfully. Usually when he asked me what I thought it irritated me, why do people out of the blue just ask things like that?, but nothing he said could irritate me now.
What did I think? My thoughts were angry, for one. Angry that we were here, now, talking to each other for perhaps the last time. Angry that he wasn’t angry for having been given such a fate. My thought were also sad, probably more sad than angry, that this illness had taken my Grandpa and mashed him in its hands, crushing him into this withered shell of a man, turning his voice into a thin, reedy echo of its former self.
“I think it’s not fair.” I murmured at last, cursing my eyes for the rain that leaked from them once more. Grandpa took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. I had to hold back a flinch as his wasted lips brushed against my skin, dampened with my tears.
“I know it’s not fair, and as much as I know you hate this expression life isn’t always fair.” Life isn’t always fair. He was right, I did hate that expression.
“But what about Grandma? This is killing her.” Grandpa hesitated a bit, unsure of what to say next.
“She’ll just have to forget about me. I don’t want her to be sad when I’m gone, it’d be much better if she moved on, maybe found a new hobby. Just so long as she’s happy.” For some unknown reason, I felt a flash of fury rip through my veins as he finished talking. This was not how my Grandpa was supposed to be acting; he was supposed to be angry and mad, bitter at the fact that he was going to leave everything behind, nervous at not knowing what would happen after he passed. It infuriated me to know that he was so calm about the whole thing.
“That’s it? You want her to move on, forget you?” I was yelling and though I tried to stop I found that I could not. “You want her to get a new hobby? How could you say something so heartless, so mean! You should see the way she acts when she’s not here. She acts like she’s made of glass or something.” We all sort of acted like we were made of glass, each of us gliding around, unaware of the other entities surrounding us, our faces frozen in varying expressions of sadness and numbness.
“Soon you’ll come to realize, Ellie, that there is no love that lasts forever. We all have to forget the ones we care about sooner or later. Your grandmother understands this, whether she wants to admit it right now or not.” I didn’t want to hear any of this. I wanted him to be the grandfather I’d always known, the one that told me funny stories as a distraction while he pulled splinters out of my hands and feet the day I decided it was high time I learned how to climb a tree, the one who would let me watch horror movies after mom said I couldn’t so long as I promised I could handle it. Not the man he was now, lain out on this slab waiting for the grim reaper to come and whisk him away from his problems, the one who’d given up.
I couldn’t take another minute in the stuffy hospital room. I stood up, my hand sliding out from his weak grasp and started toward the door. I was so frustrated I didn’t even turn back when I heard him say he loved me, I just kept going, out the door, down the hall, through the hospital’s revolving doors and out into the parking lot to wait in the car for mom to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grandpa died three days after I yelled at him in the hospital. I never did get the chance to tell him that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I holed up for days in my room refusing to leave for anything or anyone. Grandma did the same thing, which made me feel even more guilty to see how upset she was.
For the first few days after he passed away mom decided it was best to leave me alone, partly because I think she just wanted to be alone herself, but after five day of me sulking about, she came into my lair to set me straight.
“Look,” she began, and I knew that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant talk, for she only started lectures with the word ‘look’ if she was upset. “We’re all sad about Grandpa, but I think it’s time you come out of your room and start trying to move on. Your Aunt Dawn and Uncle Liam are here from Georgia to help with the funeral plans, and I want you to come and join us.” I looked up from my computer screen, my room wobbling from tears I couldn’t let myself shed, not in front of mom.
My mom was a mess. Her hair was dirty and her clothes were wrinkled, like she’d been sleeping for days and had just woken up. She looked tense and jumpy.
“I don’t want to help with the funeral plans.” I turned back to the screen; scrolling down through an ocean of emails I had no intention of reading.
“Please, Ellie, come downstairs and help us. I feel that if you participate you might find some closure.”
“Mom, I don’t need closure, I’m fine.” I was far from fine, but there was no reason to let her know that.
“Honey, it’s obvious that you’re not fine. I know you were his favorite, and I know you miss him, but we all have to move on at some point. Even your grandma is helping us prepare. She’s chosen the loveliest poem to be read at the funeral service. Your cousin Sean is going to recite it.” Mom just wasn’t going to let this go.
“Fine, you know what? I think I will help you. Like you said I probably do need closure.” I did need closure, but this was not the way to get it. I followed mom out into the hall and down the stairs, where my aunt and uncle were waiting in the living room next to my stone grandmother. Papers were strewn about the coffee table, phone numbers and the like jotted down on post it notes.
I took a seat next to Grandma and watched them all get to work. There never asked for my input, or grandma’s either, which was a little irritating seeing as how mom had wanted me to be present for this. Clearing my throat, I turned to Grandma.
“Hey, Grandma.” She looked at me without really seeing me, her eyes glassy. “I – I was just wondering how you were?”
“I think I’m doing better, though I’ll never quite be as alright as I’d like I don’t think.” I nodded, knowing that none of us would surely ever recover as we’d like to.