don't look at grandma
during a conversation with my sister on an outing to the mall (my immediate family all required new duds for the funeral services) she jokingly deemed me as heartless. this coming about after i admitted to not having shed a tear yet for grandpa’s death. she, herself, needed a handful of klennex during her classes after mom called her cell phone on the day in question. but then again, she had seen him earlier that morning, in his darkest hour, after which, she promptly requested mom to take her to school. even a 16-year old who often seems tough as nails couldn’t stomach the sight of a man whose once 200lb, 6’ stats (or thereabouts) were withering away into nothing more than shards of bone poking beneath thinning skin.
even envisioning as best as i could the scenes described to me over and over again, i couldn’t cry.
but then again, i hadn’t seen grandma yet. and i was assured that my pillar of strength, my alleged heartlessness if you will, would crumble immediately upon laying eyes on my grandmother. all 4’9” of her.
about twenty minutes before the wake, my dad exhaled deliberately and said, “let’s do this.” and we all walked out to the car somberly. even my sister and i put away our typical sisterly antics in order to prep for the next seven hours to be spent at a funeral parlor.
at the funeral home, i entered the lounge area to see her. in a floral green springy dress that apparently he had requested she wear for his service, there sat grandma high on a parlor chair. this 70+ year-old woman struggled to reach her short legs to the floor in order to greet me. or rather, to embrace me. her tear-stained cheeks rubbed against my shoulder as i realized that not only had i not removed my coat yet but that i was weeping. with much fervor. instantaneous tears smudged my mascara leaving me to wonder why one would pretty themselves up for such a bleak occasion. but truly i paid no heed to my now strung-out appearance. it was just grandma i cared about. and her repeated admissions in my ear, “milton is gone. grandpa is gone. and he’s never coming back.”
how could one not cry? after grandma released her grip, my sister came over to me and announced, “you’re not heartless anymore.”
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an excerpt from a 14 february 2005 writing