[Razor]

Synopsis: This is the true story of my late grandma.


Today is the day my grandma is going to die. The cancer spread into her lungs, and has rendered them practically useless. They have her on a life support system. The iron lungs are all that is keeping her alive.

She isn't even my grandma anymore. She doesn't have that twinkle in her eyes. They are just lifeless voids now. She doesn't smile anymore. It's been weeks since I've seen her smile. She usually smiles all the time. It was such a warming thing, her smile.

###

I remember she used to play games with me and no matter how far ahead she was, she always ended up losing by the end. She'd act like she was so upset and end up chasing me around the house.

I remember the day I found out she had cancer. She had went for testing because she wasn't feeling right. I was twelve at the time. I remember walking down the white hallways with speckled tile flooring. The nurses didn't make eye contact and everything seemed to have a dour look and feel about it. I don't remember being told, but somehow I knew she had cancer.

I walked into the room and there my grandma sat on a bed with IVs in her arm and an oxygen tube over her nose. None of her other grandchildren were around. I walked right up her, and asked if she had cancer. She looked at me with one of the most heart-wrenching looks I'd ever seen on my grandma's face. The other adults blanched and some tried to deny it, but my grandma stopped them. She patted the bed and once I was seated, looked me straight in the eyes. I remember ever word she spoke:

"I wasn't going to tell you. I was going to act as if nothing was wrong, but you'd figure it out wouldn't you? You're quiet and observant and you listen well. Since you asked I won't lie to you. I do and it's very bad. They can't treat it. I don't have long to live."

I bawled my eyes out. My grandma pulled me into her arms and cried right along with me. I didn't realize at the time, but she was crying for me, not what lay at the end for her. She might have been afraid of the pain, but she wasn't afraid to die. She was resolute in her faith.

She cried because of the things she was going to miss, like not seeing me graduate high school or college. She cried because she was going to miss being at my ball games, and cheering me on. She cried because she wasn't going to get to see my wedding. She cried because she wasn't going to able to be there for me when I needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on. She cried because she wasn't going to get to be a grandma anymore. That's why she cried.

My grandma was discharged and in the months that followed, the doctors put her on chemo, and operated to take out as much of it as they could. They were just buying her time. It was time she was determined to use.

She lived another year. It was full of pain and fatigue, but if you didn't pay close attention you might have missed it - she hid it well. My brother, four, and sister, ten, were left in the dark. My grandma didn't want them worrying over it.

It wasn't easy to keep them in the dark, and obviously my siblings knew something wasn't right, but despite her 4'8" 95lb size, her billowy-soft, wrinkled grandma skin and her gentle, kind demeanor, my grandma was tough. She refused to let her grandchildren know how bad she was. Honestly, I didn't understand what kind of pain comes from cancer and chemo and operations. I was still too young.

She lost all of her hair, but she bought a wig and wore a hat. She was plagued by fatigue and pain from the chemo, so she took naps between play times with us kids. The pain was crippling sometimes, but she just play doctor with us, so she could stay in bed. She refused to let it get the better of her.

She smiled and laughed, teased and when she could chased us around. She played with us until she was so tired she could barely sit up and sometimes she would clench her fist to fight back the pain that threatened to make her faint.

I saw it, because I was looking for it, but the other kids didn't so much. It's at these times, I would take them outside to play. I remember the silent thank-yous my grandma would give me as I led them outside and the heartbreaking look on her face that she couldn't go with us.

The cancer took her fast. Within a week, she was completely bed ridden and then in ICU. Four days later everyone was gathered at the hospital.

###

Which brings me back to today. The day my grandma is going to die. They say she doesn't have long now, a few hours at most. The iron lung compresses and releases pumping oxygen into her dying body. I look at her, but I can't stand what I see. I leave. I go outside. It's beautiful, crystal blue sky with the warm and mellow sun shining bright. Everything is green and full of life.

I silently curse God for making the day my grandma is going to die so nice. It should be dark and rainy with thunder bellowing out the frustration caught inside me. I look over at some kids playing not far from the hospital. I curse them too for enjoying the day that my grandma is going to die.

It is a Thursday. To me this is the worst Thursday of my life. I am going to remember this Thursday for the rest of my life - and then it hits me: Today might be the worst day of my life, but to everyone else it's a normal, beautiful, summer day. How many times have I enjoyed a day that someone else's grandma has died on? Tomorrow the sun will rise and the world will go on, even thought it will lack something the day before it had.

I am standing outside, tears slowly making their way down my face, as I look at the bluest sky I've ever seen. My mom comes out sobbing and tells me my grandmother is gone. My sister starts to wail and my mom envelopes her in a crushing hug. A sob gets caught in my throat, as the reality of what I've known would happen for a year, sets in. Tidal waves of emotions break over me, mixing chaotically into a maelstrom. I fight against the raging currents; I fight to not be pulled down into the depths of its self-pity.

My saving light is the other side of the same coin, my grandma. I think about what she would say, what she would want. The storm begins to soothe, and I take a deep breathe, clearing my head and my aching heart.

I come to the conclusion, I'm glad I'm outside when it happened; my grandma would have wanted that way. She wouldn't have wanted her grandkids inside on such a beautiful day. She definitely wouldn't want to be reason for making us cry, and she would have thought it silly to cry over a shell that isn't her anymore.

My mom tries to rope me into the hug. I let her, but I don't go inside with them. I stay outside, tears still making their way down my face. I don't try to stop them or brush them away. I just let them come, slow and steady, as I take in this beautiful day that mirrors the kindness that was my grandmother. I guess today might be a fitting for my grandma's death in that way.

Today, my grandma died. I lost a grandma today, and God gained a helper. God got one hell of an angel. He'd better appreciate her. I know I always will.

My grandma died today. One day before her 65th birthday. I love you grandma.

[peter_pyne]

Great story - it depicts your own coming of age, not to mention showing what a wonderful woman your grandma was. Also, when you wrote how you escorted her other grandkids out of the hospital when she was in pain - that was a very touching moment.

-Peter

[FantasticMuse]

This was wonderful. I loved having the realistic views into your past, and the sharing of memories. I can understand all the characters involved, but it doesn't take away from the pain you were feeling. The end was a little unoriginal and weak. I would've spent hours tweaking away at it, but its very appropriate and does far more than merely get the point across.

[Razor]

Thank you. This is a very personal piece. Your words are welcomed. Hmm, the end is missing something huh. I see your point about being a little unoriginal. I'll give it some thought and see what I come up with.

[Rolling Pichu]

Of course the end could have been more touching, but I like the piece in general. It shows true feelings and the aching I can even attempt to imagine it. You maybe have lacked more description, maybe metaphors, but bthat's not the case; these must be your true sensations, and I admire them as you knew how to make them words.

~Steven

[osofoaddo]

What a lovely story to share .. I enjoyed reading your wonderful " Requiem" to your Grandmother.

[Razor]

Thank you both for your comments. This is obviously a very personal piece for me. I took another look and it and tried to improve it here and there.

Again thanks.

[vincemcc00]

Thats brave stuff man.
I didnt go and see ether of my Grandmothers in the hospital when they were dying. Truth was I was a strange teenager and I didnt really feel any emotion about ether event. I treated their deaths as a functional thing which leaves me a bit numb when i think about it now. Its nice to read things like this, to almost step into your shoes and see this is how you felt. Like anybody could have felt. It's deep stuff and its brave to put it out there for everyone to see, for everyone to become you during such an emotional time.

Its also one of the few pieces of prose I've been able to read from start to finish on this site without chocking on vocab and over emphasised descriptions that take too long to read. I dont know, emotion is too raw and simple to overdress with words and I think you've given a real description of your feelings here. Brave stuff my friend and I'm glad to have read it.

[Razor]

Thank you so much for your comment. This is obviously personal, and I did have second thoughts about putting it up, but I'm glad I did.

[AnimeFreakGeek]

Kudos for posting something so personal, thanks for sharing it with us. For those who have lost loved ones we can relate to what you were, and probably are still feeling. This was a well written piece and a lovely tribute to someone you obviously cared a great deal about!

[DIVAWRITER]

Re: The Death of an Angel

Your story touched me deeply. You are a fine writer because you made me feel what you felt. You brought me into the story in a way that I could not deny the pain of losing a loved one.

I am a grandma. I can only hope that one of my grandkids will be able to articulate their feelings in such a succinctly heartfelt way when my time comes. Kudos, Razor

The only thing I might suggest is that you go over it again and correct the spelling and/or grammatical errors. You want such a wonderful piece of writing to be completely perfect!