Last night I heard something whisper softly "I'm dying" and I mistook it for my computer. Last night I heard the death beetle in the hallway. Jake, our old trusty-rusty chocolate lab is looking particularly sullen today and wont leave her bedside. Mom is crying on the phone downstairs with the Hospice and Dad's calling the people to pull away the power-line that fell during the night and blocked the road.
"She went peacefully" they keep saying. I don’t know that a woman of her kind would have gone any other way.
Five hours, the power crew says... Five hours before they can clear away the downed line and the world will return to normal... for everyone but us. for everyone but us, they'll keep driving their cars, thankful for the excuse to be late for or even skip work. For everyone but us, they'll return to their [fully intact] families, having only suffered the loss of a few moments time. Except for us.
Mom keeps running around the house, flustered and crying, doing the things that need done. You can’t hug her, she breaks down even more. Dad's just... dad. that solid rock that's always there to do what's logical and make sure his girls are ok… and here I am... locked in my room [with the door open] and the lights all on at 6:15 in the morning, trying to spill the way I feel... and explain why I don’t.
It’s midnight now. This day has been one of the longest of my life. Renee left school early and brought us breakfast while dad was off running some errand or another. The three of us sat around the table, trying not to cry, and trying to make like everything was ok. Austin understood, Renee said, but Brendan didn’t. we lit the candles and cleaned the room as is the family tradition. We locked ourselves in our rooms, or went for drives and dinners… each mourning in our own way.
I was there, to make sure everything went OK when they took the body and filled out the paperwork. I was there when the nurse came and made sure all the last minute things were ok. I was there when Mom called Jack (her father) to tell him that she had passed. I was there when he and his wife called back, not six hours later to ask when they were getting their money, and to bitch and throw fits at my mother when they found out that nothing was happening right away, and that mom was getting more than they were. I was there when mom cried after getting off the phone, having less respect for her father than she ever had before, if that’s possible…
But… I wasn’t there emotionally. Somehow I’m lost in this void between feeling sad, scared and alone and feeling nothing at all. This empty in my chest is pushing out like an over filled balloon, filled to burst with something and nothing all at the same time. I don’t know this feeling… I have no name for it. I don’t feel like crying, but my eyes leak like faucets, the familiar almost-pain pushing through my skull to congregate at my tear ducts. This is all surreal. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and none of this will be true. I’ll be seven years old again, climbing the big tree in the front yard that she planted for Earth Day with my mom when she was young. I’m eight, and she’s teaching me how to bake the perfect strawberry rhubarb pie… I’m nine and she’s laughing out the window as Renee and I wage war in the snow. I’m ten and she’s got dinner ready when we come to visit- pot roast, mashed potatoes, squash, and pumpkin pie for dessert. I’m eleven and she’s telling me how proud she is that I got good grades in school. I’m twelve and she’s shaking her head and smiling at my bright pink hair… I’m twenty and she’s holding my hand and kissing my cheek and laughing at my crazy antics and all the weird food I bring for her to try. She’s never had pizza… she likes it a lot. I’m twenty and I’m promising her that in a few days I’ll make Taco’s so she can try one… I’m twenty, and I have taco mix and no Grammy to make it for. I’m twenty and yesterday I avoided going into her room because she looked so frail… I’m twenty, and I never got to say, “I love you, Grammy. Goodbye.”
I love you. Goodbye.