Grandma

I remember her. It is like she never left. I remember the gentle way she brushed my hair. The kind words she always had ready. I remember how protected and safe I always felt when she was near. I remember waking up early to eat breakfast, just me and her. I remember that she was the best cook ever. I remember how angry I was when she didn’t wake up. I remember my father and uncle pulling me away from her bedside. I remember them talking about her so lost in their grief that they never knew I listened. I remember not being allowed at the funeral. I remember never getting to say goodbye.1

I forget exactly what she looked like. I can’t remember what her favorite food was. I forget what her favorite perfume was. I can’t remember if she ever wore jewelry. I forget if she ever was mean. I can’t remember her ever being angry. I don’t remember if she was short or tall. I can’t remember if she was ever sad, If she ever cried. 2

I’m the one who found her laying there in her bed. She never came to breakfast again. There was blood on her temple. No matter how much I cried, begged or yelled she never came back. She wouldn’t wake up. It was my fault. I should have gotten up earlier. I should have told her goodbye. I should have said “I love you one” last time.3

After she died I walked to school thru the graveyard. I went to first grade and missed her when I got home. On my way to school I would pick flowers or steal them off of others graves, and gently place them over her name. I would lean down and kiss her gravestone every time I passed. 4

I got older and I moved away. I got married. I tried to end my life. I took a whole bottle of pills and walked into the woods. I sat with my back on a tree, and a little stream by my feet. I lit a cigarette. I remember her pulling me out of the water. She said I needed to get up and go out of the woods. She said it wasn’t my time, that I had to wait. I couldn’t walk very well and she held me up. 5

When I came out of the woods, there were people looking for me. An ambulance was there and took me away. At the hospital they gave me the antidote. I remember dreaming about her. When I woke they told me I had slept for three days, and I was going to be alright. 6

It has been many years since that night. Whenever I am blue and don’t know which way to turn I call out to her. I can feel her hand on mine, or wrapped in her arms. Now I tell her Goodbye, I love you grandma, and I remember.