Grandma and Grandpa's House: Closing A Chapter Part 1

"Grandma has cancer".

Only a small part of me was scared. This is Grandma. She's a fighter. She's full of life and fire. She's strong, much stronger than I am. I was filled with hope and faith that she would survive this, that we would have so many more laughs and experiences together, memories to create. I did not prepare for the worst, because it would not happen, not to her.

She wasn't getting better. She was having a hard time breathing, eating and then surviving. Mom flew out to help take care of her. We flew out a short time later. Grandma and Grandpa's new house felt empty without her there. I couldn't feel her presence in her untouched things.

We went to the hospital, took the elevator up to her room. Mom prepped us, telling us not to cry. We needed to be happy. She also had us clean our hands with the hand sanitizer outside Grandma's room. The door opened and there she was, laying in a bed. I could see her eyes over the oxygen mask she wore. I stopped breathing, shocked at how quickly she was fading. The words that I had rehearsed flew from my head as I could only stare at this different yet same woman. She didn't look like herself. She was so thin and fragile. Her hair was a solid white. I wanted to hold her hand even though I was scared that it might break. I could tell that she was trying to smile, her eyes wrinkling. But, I could also tell that she was in pain. Her face was pale. Everyone spoke in a calm and somewhat hushed voice, stating only the positive. How could I tell this woman the truth? How could I tell Grandma, a woman who has never defined herself by age, this sassy and lively, John Wayne loving, independent heroine that I am going to miss her dearly? Grandma was my second mother. She woke me up in the morning, made me breakfast, picked me up and drove me to activities, taught me music, held my hand, stayed up all night to help me write English essays, and sang me to sleep. She's steady, always there and now I was facing a future without her.

I couldn't stop the tears. They burned down my face as I looked at her and tried to smile. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to hold her close as she had held me. I knew at that moment that it was the last time I was going to see her. It was a matter of time and I wanted it to go slowly. I wanted it to rewind. It was too much, seeing her like this. The only words that escaped me were to ask, "May I play for you, Grandma?"

The nurses wheeled Grandma out of her room, down the hallway, to the lobby. It was hard to smile as it was plain to see how uncomfortable she was, but she continued to glow, her eyes sparkling. She smiled, her eyes squinting above the mask. I suddenly got nervous, even though I had played in front of her a thousand times. Here, I was sitting in front of the woman who had kindly corrected my mistakes, her hands next to mine on the keys. I tried to relax and started to breathe through my nose and out my mouth like she had taught me. The music began to flow through me, like a stream that I couldn't and didn't want to control. I played Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte (Pavane for a Dead Princess) by Ravel. Fitting since it was the last song she had started to teach me how to play. Fitting, because in a way, this was my song, my words for her. It is a bittersweet song, beautiful and light. It sounds similar to Debussy's music. My eyes glazed over as I started to cry, the music speaking the words I never said, the love I never shared. I could not see the keys any longer; it was all a large colorless blur.

Grandma had said that the piano creates music with an inner beauty; 'music makes the creator more beautiful, beautifies the soul of the listener, and makes the world a more beautiful place.' Music is our escape; it was what your feelings sound like, a love in search of words. She taught me how to express myself and to love to express myself.

The song ended so quickly. I finished, hands shaking, emotionally spent. I could tell that I had pleased her as she spoke her genuine thanks for the song and clapped for me. I had apologized countless times during the piece, muttering 'I'm so sorry' as I stumbled my way through the most emotional parts, countless tears splashing the keys. My heart was aching.

We continued to talk in her room and Grandma had enough energy to joke around and laugh with us. But, it was not long before she tired, her face weary once again. It was time to leave. Only a hint of sadness lingered as Grandma spoke of seeing me soon, full of hope that in reality was dangling by weak, short strings. I slowly left, nodding my head in doubtful agreement. I was really going to miss her.

I wanted to stay, but had to fly home for volleyball tryouts. Sarah and I ended up being on the same team and we practiced together. One night, after practice, I turned on my phone and listened to my messages. One was from Mom. She was still in Minnesota taking care of Grandma.

"Hey girls, Grandma is going now. If you can, please call me so that you can say your goodbyes and be here on the phone with us."

My heart was racing as I quickly called back and Mom was crying. Grandma was already gone and I missed saying goodbye, telling her that I love her one last time by an hour. I felt numb. I felt nothing, and then, suddenly, I was overwhelmed with feeling. I started bawling, sobbing into my hands. I felt my tears drip into my hands. I felt hot liquid escape my nostrils and mouth. Sarah sat next to me and after I shared the news with her, we held each other and cried in the school gym.

Grandma and Grandpa's House: Shocked and Terrified

After our haunted house experience, which we deemed an overall success, we decided to go to a professional haunted house. It was on a farm. You waited in line to get on a haunted hay ride that drove you to the haunted house. Grandma, Grandpa, Sarah, Kristi and I all piled up on the wagon. It was my first haunted house experience and I was freaked out when the wagon started moving. Kristi was on my left and Sarah was on my right. We passed by gory stages of crazy surgeons and killers on the loose. We saw ghosts and demons running alongside the wagon. I was so scared that I thought I was going pass out, but I was too proud to admit that I couldn't handle the haunted house scene. I started feeling queasy just as someone with a chainsaw jumped on the wagon. He started to saw parts of the benches that we were sitting on. It was too much; so, I quickly turned to Kristi, feigning concern for her when I was the one that needed help. I spent the rest of the ride looking at her and trying to tune out the scary stuff going on around me. As soon as it was over, I jumped off and refused to go into the haunted house with Grandma and Sarah. I waited outside with Kristi and Grandpa, drinking hot chocolate and trying to calm my nerves while they went through. Apparently, Grandma laughed and clapped through the whole thing. At the end, when a man started chasing them, Sarah took off and left her. I can just imagine Grandma slowly walking away from him, giggling all the way.

Grandma loved feeding people. We would often have church members come over for dinner. We would often run out of room on her small kitchen table. So, after she served one dish, she would remove it from the table and bring another over. One time, she hurriedly brought one of the salads and realized that she had forgotten the tongs; so, she grabbed it with her hands and dumped it on each plate while muttering, "My hands are clean. My hands are clean."

One night, we had Don over for dinner. He and Mom had been dating for a little while. Grandma made chicken. While she was serving, she asked, "Do you like breast, Don?"

Grandma didn't have many clothes and what she did have was raggedy and stained. Mom said that she would sometimes be embarrassed by Grandma's stained outfits but that she later realized that Grandma didn't have clothes because she spent her money on them. She spent her money on their music lessons, riding lessons, ice skating lessons etc. Grandma often wore a Mickey Mouse sweater with two large stains, one on the sleeve and one on the stomach. I think Mom has that sweater now.

Grandpa's driving was terrifying. I often prayed for safety as I sat in the front seat of his white Lincoln. One day, he turned to me and asked if I wanted to drive. He took me to an abandoned parking lot and switched spots with me. It was the first time I got behind the wheel and it was our secret. I got to drive back and forth in the parking lot for half an hour or so. He would have me practice accelerating and slowing down. We practiced parking. I loved it.

I used to read Frances the Badger books. They were about a naughty little badger who would often get herself into trouble. She had tea parties and picnics and ate boiled eggs out of egg cups. Grandma made this a reality for me. She hosted a tea party for me; I got to invite some of my friends over. We ate cucumber sandwiches and drink out of tea cups. She took us on a picnic in a beautiful field. She also bought some special egg cups so that I could put my boiled eggs in them. She gave us little spoons to crack them with. It was fun, experiencing new things with Grandma. We read Hank the Cowdog books. Grandma also bought some of the tapes so that we could listen to it while we drove. We also loved reading George and Martha books about two silly hippos who experience new things together and play tricks on each other.

We got used to Grandma and Grandpa's house rules. They were strict, but so was Mom; so, it wasn't a huge adjustment for us. Grandma was put in charge of a primary class at church and she was having a hard time keeping the kids in line. I had heard her discuss this problem with Grandpa a few weeks in a row. She had started talking about it with Sarah and I, asking what our teachers had done when we were in primary. I went to the bathroom as they talked in length about it. As I came back, I didn't know that they had switched to a different subject. They were talking about a fun activity Grandma could do with her class. She was going to simulate 'holding to the iron rod' and wanted the kids to hold onto pieces of string with blindfolds over their eyes. She wanted to have people whisper to them, both good and bad spirits, either encouraging them to hold on or telling them to let go. When I came back into the room, Grandma and Sarah were talking about what the evil spirits could say to them. I sat down and, still thinking that they were talking about punishing the primary students, heard Grandma harshly whisper, "We can just say, 'God doesn't love you! Just give up! Give up!' " I was stunned! Grandma was strict, but she had never whispered that to me when I was naughty. I suddenly felt really bad for the troublesome children but was scared to say anything, worried that Grandma would say something similar to me if I objected. I was especially shocked because Sarah was nodding with Grandma, both looking excited to say such things. Thankfully, as they kept talking, I realized my mistake and explained to them how bothered I had been. Grandma laughed hard. We sat around the table crying and laughing for a long time.