Fear and Loathing in South Salem

Normally, I would not use this space to pour out my emotions like I’m about to do, but as of right now, I feel it’s the only way I can express myself. I am, after all, going to be an English major, probably. Perhaps this is the perfect solution, so here it goes…

My grandmother died this evening. She was 71 years old, and I will never stop believing she had another 20 years left in her. Someone with such a strong will did not deserve her demise. She had stage 4 uterine cancer, laced with 3 very aggressive tumors. Radiation to shrink the tumors did not work. Chemotherapy in the beginning did not work. Surgery was not really an option. Our family knew it was bad, but I don’t think a single one of us imagined what was actually going to happen, and so rapidly at that. She was becoming increasingly unable to do many every day things, which was expected, but just this past Friday evening, she took a turn for the absolute worst. All at once, she became completely bed-ridden, she lost her ability to speak, and she developed was is known as “death rattle”. I cannot describe the immense pain of having to listen to someone who has helped you grow up, and loved you unconditionally no matter what, literally choke on her own breaths, and basically drown on an irreversible buildup of bile and saliva in her system. It was one of the most horrifying things I will ever endure, and I know that. She spent the entire weekend trying to tell us things, but couldn’t. Her lips would move but nearly without a sound, other than the cringing rattle. Every once in a while, she’d speak just every so clearly that you could understand a word or two, but no more. Facing this situation obviously told us all that the end was much closer than we had anticipated nor wanted to believe, and just as Grandma wanted it, we said our goodbyes to that lovely woman one by one…every single family member. Because her kidneys were shutting completely down on her, she was unable to fall asleep, and for nearly 48 hours straight, she focused her visual attention on whatever she could find in the room. When I went in to say my final farewell to her, she looked me square in the eyes the entire time, and I knew that she knew me, amidst the fact that she was doped up on so much morphine, it’d have made a wounded ‘Nam patient permanently numb. She didn’t have to say a word, but she did…and I heard it perfectly…”love ya.” I kissed her goodbye, squeezed her hand as she returned the favor, and gave her one last big Cody smile. Walking out of that room was nearly impossible, and it’s no wonder why. This is a woman that introduced me to a million and one wonderful things, including but certainly not limited to the value of a funny personality, how to be a gentleman for the ladies, and the one thing she was most proud of and always supported in every way…she made me a performer, and I will forever remain one. One memory that pops into my mind at this juncture is about 2 and 1/2 years ago, I was playing a piece of orchestral music while she was visiting my house. My mother was in the hospital recovering from a knee surgery, and my father and siblings were all working. My grandma came by to simply help out around the house, and when I started playing the music in the background while we were making lunch, she came over to me and asked me something she had never asked before…she asked me to dance with her, to the music, just once. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or what. But she was completely serious, and once I realized it, I turned the song back to the beginning, and began an impromptu waltz with her right in my living room. She was so happy, and I was a little embarrassed to be totally honest, but I knew she loved every minute of it and just kept smiling at me, which made it hard for me to be anything but happy that she was enjoying it so much. I have never told anyone that story. Ever. But it is a memory that I will forever treasure, and never forget, just like every single time I was with her from as far back as I can remember to just earlier tonight when I said goodbye for the last time.

One thing that will always stick with me, as well, is something I never imagined I’d have to witness first hand: my grandfather telling his wife of 52 years goodbye. You would have to know my grandfather to know just what I’m referring to, but the man has rarely ever shown an emotional side in both my lifetime and his. He is just as tough as nails, but this is someone he fell in love with incredibly early on in his life, claimed and married her before she was even 20, and spent the last few decades of his continuing life with, raising a family and changing the world…at least, our world. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain and struggle within him these last few weeks, and especially the last few nights. What was so great to see was that he kicked everyone out of her room, just so he could cuddle up next to her, put his arm around her one final time just as he said she always liked it, and lay there for over an hour talking with her about their lives together and how he would not have done a single thing differently. I may never see a long so strong ever again.

As I said before, I wouldn’t normally post something like this, but this is too big of a life event to not relay my feelings about, and I don’t think there is a single person I could directly say any of this to, face to face. I know, by a long shot, I am not the only one who’s ever lost a grandparent, and my grandmother is not the first I’ve ever lost, but I will never have another connection with anyone in my lifetime like I had with her. That seems pretty typical to say at a time like this, most likely, but it’s truthfully how I feel. There was never, is not, and will never be another like her to me, and she knew it. One of my all time favorite songs, Art Garfunkel’s “All I Know”, contains a lyrical line that puts it more than perfectly: “….the ending always comes at last, endings always come too fast. They come too fast, but they pass too slow. I love you, and that’s all I know.”

 You will be missed every day, and our memories will never fade. You did not deserve to suffer so, but you struggled through and proved that you’re worth a damn in a fight…but not getting to know you at all would have been the biggest crime of all.

R.I.P. Grandma