01.13.04 - 11:03 am

i got the phone call this morning. i wasnt awake at 730, when they all were supposed to meet, but by the time the phone rang at 830, i was there waiting.

i always have said i never lost a grandparent, i didnt know what it felt like. thats not true. my granda david died several years ago, and i can recall it well.

i remember going over to his house, seeing him in a chair, across the room was his wife, sherry, and seated on the couch was a pastor of some sort. my father, mother and sisters were also present. i remember a prayer was said for my grandfather, a prayer in preparation for his death. everyone had their eyes closed, except for me. i just watched him. he prayed so....hard. i guess at the time, i felt like this was all just a precaution, as if he wasnt supposed to, but incase he did pass away. i guess i was young enough to be naive about what was really going on around me. my sisters were alot younger than they are now, and were easily bored. they were restless and wanted to go. i wanted to stay, i still had things i needed to ask him about his life. i remember getting up to leave, his eyes full of tears. this would be the last time he would say goodbye to us ever. i think he knew it. but i dont think me or my sisters did. he was sad. terribly sad. but what depressed me the most about that night were his hands. his weathered hands had so many cuts on them, up and down his fingers, on the side of his palms. deep cuts. cuts that looked as though a stitch or two would have been necessary to close. i could feel them when i shook his hand, and felt that too much pressure would inflame the wounds and hurt him. his hands were dry, and the cuts were hard. he was crying.

the next time i saw him, he was sleeping on a chair in his bedroom, a blanket over him. it was dim in the room. it was just me and my father going to visit him. sherry had said he had been sleeping for several hours, as i remember it was an excessive amount of sleep he had been in. i said hi grandpa, and i love you. he didnt wake. and then next day father told me his father had died. my grandfather.

he wasnt my favorite grandfather. he didnt give very exciting toys. he wouldnt let me do much when he was over watching me. he told me amazing stories though, when i was in eighth grade. and the following christmas he expressed his great anger at how no one ever comes to see him, and no one cares about him, and when he had cancer no one did anything for him and just ignored him. over a game of chess, this is how he told someone of his disdain and frustration. i felt very uncomfortable because it was as if he was personally attacking me. almost blaming me for not gathering up his family to come visit him when he wanted more often. regardless, i find myself with dreams of him periodically. seeing him smile and me telling him how much i miss him. i miss knowing he was at least somewhere , and all i had to do was ask dad to drive out and see him. i miss him. i miss my grandfather.

and today, i will always miss my grandmother.

it was...expected though. i got home from lunch yesterday with two messages on the machine. the first one was a very somber mother, telling me i need to call her as soon as possible. and that if any of the guys of the house got this message, to make sure that i got in touch with my mother. the next message was whitney, asking me when i thought i was going to tualatin next, and that we should plan on going there soon. i immediately knew something was wrong. i imagined it had to do with either mike and a police shooting or accident, or my grandma with a hip problem, or worse.

to me she always seemed so frail, but so damned resiliant. so adamant that she could handle anything and take care of herself. her hands were always so soft. arthritis and age had weathered them away to bones and skin. but it was so soft.

her hip had popped itself out several times. and each time there was always a hassel connected with it. always telling grandma to be more careful. to use a cane. to stop taking laundry up and down the stairs. she popped out her hip once, and the doctors told her to stay put and not move during her stay at the hospital. well just a day or so after her hip replacement surgery, she decided she was strong enough to get out of her hospital bed and walk to the restroom. of course her mind said it was possible, but her body was completely unable to handle it. she fell and had to call for a nurse and the hospital told my mother and grandfather that helen wemhoener was a liability, and they couldnt keep her there if she wasnt going to listen to their instructions. my mom erupted on that note, and in response, my grandma was allowed to stay, and got a room right next door to the head nurse. even after that, my grandma hated her cane, hated using it. and most of all, hated being told what to do.

her nick name in her youth was "blackie" because she had such dark black hair. my sisters and i and our friends thoroughly enjoyed what had become of blackie. a solid white afro of old lady hair. unmistakable in a crowd, you could easily pinpoint her location based on the white orb of her head.

she was a tiny woman. incredibly short. and her and my grandfather would bicker all of the time. it was very amusing listening to them carry on. my grandma asking questions or saying things my grandpa thought ridiculous.

she had a stroke once, and i was concerned then that that was it. she would perish, or be permanently disfigured with neurological damage. but that wasnt the case. my mother said at first she was severely disoriented, and kept saying she needed to get back to work, even though she hadnt worked in decades. she slurred her speech and couldnt remember much. but by the time i got to seeing her, she was my grandma and i couldnt even tell anything had happened.

i bought a phone card saturday, and sunday i used it to call my grandparents while i was standing at the registers. it would have just been a quick call, just to say hello. inevitably grandpa would have told me to hold on while he put grandma on the other line, so that they could both speak and listen. but instead of my grandma and grandpas trademark hellos, i got a busy signal.

i should have just called back later.

the following morning, my grandma had her stroke. she awoke around 5 am and had slurred speech and physical difficulties. my grandpa suggest to take her to the hospital, but being helen, she refused. and so my grandfather didnt. which i wont ever understand. a while later she was noticeably worse, and so an ambulance was called. thirty minutes after she arrived she was doing very bad. grandpa wasnt there because he was cleaning up at home. so the hospital called my mom, and gave my mom the option to either let her go or operate on her to stop the bleeding inside her brain. my mom chose the surgery. by the time mom had gotten to the hospital my grandmas eyes were closed, but she was responsive. she knew my mom was there.

the six hour surgery that the doctor was optimistic about only took two hours. i felt good about that. however, mike called later last night and told me she wasnt recovering well from the surgery, her blood pressure was still high, and that she probably wouldnt make it. a meeting was arranged for 730 am on the morning of january 13th, grandpa, mom, mike and my uncle paul. they were going to see how the night played out, how the surgery was helping and to decide what to do next. grandma didnt want to be on life support.

she didnt suffer mike says. everyone was glad she went as peacefully as she did.

my grandma helen passed away today.

i thought about it last night in my dreams. i imagined someone wrapping my heart with a cloth strap, but winding it so tightly that it hurt. and then just pulling on both ends, squeezing it so tight it was painful, and impossible to breathe. this was an anger cloth. i was filled with such immense anger at sarah suddenly. i was furious that on thanksgiving sarah wouldnt let ashton come over. i was so mad that my grandparents didnt get to see him. to play with him. to tell me how beautiful he was. how smiley he was. how heavy he was getting. it seemed like such a simple request of sarah, but she complicated it with her demands that she had to be there. and now my grandma is without anymore memories of ashton as hes gotten older.

i removed that cloth from my heart, i didnt enjoy being so angry, and feeling as hurt as i did because of it. another cloth however, wrapped around my chest, not nearly as tight, but with enough strength to pain me differently than the first. this was sadness. i knew what was going on, and yet no emotion could i muster. its easy to continue talking and laughing with my friends, being involved with trivial activities and worrying about silly things when im all the way down here, havent seen or spoken with my grandparents in weeks and am so distant from everything. i started to cry only when talking to my mom this morning. when she told me that it wasnt necessary i came up, since everyone would be so busy with funeral planning and such.

i need to be able to cry. i need to be able to express some amount of visible sadness so that i dont seem so impartial and careless. i think its too hard. i think my body just...doesnt do that anymore. and i dont know why.

my mom told me my grandma was planning on starting to drive again as soon as she could.

i have class in 40 minutes. half a dozen telemarketers have called already this morning, and ive been more angry and frustrated with them than ever before. what the hell do they think theyre doing? i dont want any goddamned long distance for 3 cents a minute, my fucking grandmother died this morning asshole. what the fuck are you thinking? its going to be the same at work. two dozen large crickets please! yeah i want this fish right there, the fat one! gleeful kids, silly adults. and me, pissed off that im working and that none of these people know. and how sad i want them to be because of it.