put the days away

Dear K-

My grandmother is dead. I received the message on a Saturday afternoon while I sat in an empty optometry office musing about how all my patients appeared to be cancelling or no-showing due to the recent blessing of warmer weather. It was one of those things where deep down I most likely knew it was coming, but I was trying to avoid it. Trying to think it would be pushed off for another year or two. Another close call.

I kept trying to send her an African Violet. She liked flowers, and I foolishly thought if I sent her something that would require her care and attention, maybe she could be persuaded to get better. But the florist could not fulfil my order, so instead I sent her the severed heads of assorted daisies and a stuffed giraffe tied to a crinkly balloon begging her to get well soon. It wasn’t enough. She told us herself; she didn’t want to live anymore. Between bouts of drug-induced sleep, she repeatedly asked my mother and her sister, “why can’t I just die?”

I wonder if I will ever reach that point in my life.

As morbid as the situation is, I am strangely comforted by the thought that she no longer wanted to hold on. I regret I couldn’t visit her this past year, before she had given up. I kept all the letters and birthday cards she sent me. I don’t know if she knew that. And that’s actually what makes me the saddest at current; the thought I won’t receive any more of her letters. I won’t hear any more about the weather in Minnesota, or how the squirrels have gotten into her tomatoes, or how Grandpa had a difficult time driving to the senior center to play cards due to the recent ice storm. I always smirked at the letters and tossed them in my desk drawer, usually scrawling some sort of reply and sending it her way. But now, faced with the realization that the letters will now cease, my heart sinks with acknowledgement that I enjoyed them more than I dared to admit. Even though the words may have seemed trivial, they were the only thing connecting me to a woman I haven’t seen in approximately 4 to 5 years.

So I spent a tidy sum purchasing the last ticket available for a flight out at 5:45am in order to make it in time for the funeral. You know, I’ve been feeling so run down lately that a part of me is actually looking forward to taking a day or two off, even if it is to attend a funeral. That seems somewhat selfish, but it is the truth. A part of me wishes I could’ve taken the whole week off. I just don’t feel like doing much of anything right now.

At least the weather is getting warmer.

On an unrelated note, finding medical quality syringes on short notice is more frustrating than I expected. I’m lucky the patient called to reschedule to next week. Buys me some time. Just throwing this out there for your information.

Un-reticently yours,
-k