13 September, 2013

keep going

{my gram - a 60's bombshell}

The last time I saw my grandma I blew a kiss to her through the window of her hospital room. We had just finished visiting. I can't even remember what the conversation was about, but I remember a very real feeling of terror that this might be the last time I spent with her.

So, before I left, I asked if I could pray with her and I clutched her hand and held back tears as I begged God to help her breathe, to heal her lungs. It was one of those prayers you throw up knowing that the desired outcome is possible because God is powerful but realizing that you may be disappointed like the many others who earnestly prayed before you.

"That was nice, Rachie," she said.

I kissed her through the medical mask I was required to wear, hugged her gently, and told her I loved her, too.

And then I walked down the hallway, out of the building, and to my car - sobbing.

That was the last time I saw her. Really, the last time I fully heard her voice. We tried talking a handful of times on the phone after I moved but it was hard for her to focus on breathing at the same time. So, we stuck to texting. I'd tell her about my days of unpacking and bike rides to the grocery store in the heat. Once school started, I sent her a picture of my new id card and let her know how my first days were going. She would reply with encouraging words telling me how smart I was and how proud she was of me.

It's been three weeks since her last text.

I still can't believe that she's gone. I still expect my phone to light up with a message from Grandma asking how my day is going.

I go to school, read my casebooks, participate in class discussions and talk with friends all of which feels wrong most of the time. I know that life goes on but I feel guilty when I let it. I feel empty - like something is missing.

I'm sad most of the time but it's something that I generally have to mask because you can't be the girl crying in Contracts. I wish I could just stop and think about her and remember her and mourn over her but I am in a place that forces me to move - to keep going.

So, I keep going, but I hate it.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Rach. Just sitting here crying and aching for you. I love you so much. I'm sure that even in your busiest days, you will find beautiful little moments to remember your Gram in. Moving forward doesn't ever, ever mean you're forgetting her. I'll be thinking of you often.