November 30, 2012
Gammy,
I
love you so much. I know you have some hard times, but you’re
strong enough to get through them all. You’re strong and an
incredibly beautiful woman. I seriously don’t know what I would do
without you. Gammy, you are one of the most selfless people I’ve
gotten to know. You deserve the world! I just want you to know that.
I love to make you laugh because I love to see you happy! Get well
soon!
Love
Always,
Your
Bunny
Rushing
to the emergency room with this letter in my hand, I hadn’t
realized it had gotten this bad. As I walk in, I see my fragile
grandma sitting in the small waiting room chairs, half the size she
was the previous month. Yellow has washed her skin and eyes. It’s a
diagnosis of liver and kidney failure, hepatitis B and pneumonia. For
years she’s struggled with depression and alcohol abuse. She keeps
it a secret, a secret everyone knows but chooses not to talk about.
She has a rough adult life but I never see her struggle. She hides
her pain in the boxed wine within her kitchen.
November
30, 2012
Her
vital signs are too weak to send her home. They relocate her to a
room on the fifth floor. Every day I go to see her. Sometimes I visit
multiple times a day.
December
4, 2012
Darkness
surrounds the hospital and the moonlight illuminations the sky. I
have school the next morning but I don’t want to leave her. What
if she just doesn’t awaken the next morning and I’m not there,
I think to myself. I don’t want to leave her. My backpack is heavy,
occupied by pages of homework I haven’t done in the past week,
along with clothes for the next day. I lay out a blanket on one of
the chairs in her room while my dad does the same. The hospital has a
you’re-surrounded-by-people-but-feel-alone feel. A sadness creeps
the halls and weeps on to my face. “People die here,” I realize.
Shivers crawl down my body. I should have brought socks.
December
12, 2012
She
isn’t getting much better. Neither am I. I am failing five out of
my eight classes and on average am only going to about three school
days a week. The thought of losing my grandma scares me. Some days
I’m just too sad to get up, let alone go to school where I have no
friends to talk to. School has gone from my first priority to my
last.
“Hi
grandma. I’m back,” I say as I grab her hand.
“Will
you just go home?” she replies.
We
both smile and know I’m not going anywhere.
December
20, 2012
After
a few weeks of being in the hospital, they decide she can live at her
sister’s house and she’ll take care of her. That means she is
getting better, right? That’s what I think. Days at a time I am
here at my great aunt’s, sitting by my grandma’s side. Crying.
Pain strikes her voice every time she talks. A haunting smell of
medicine and time running out fills the room she stays in.
December
25, 2012
Snow
dwindles on the other side of the window sill. My family is all
gathered together at my great aunt’s house. There is a slight
happiness and warmth about this Christmas. It’s not exactly what I
would have imagined Christmas day, but I get to spend it with my
grandma and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I fade away
from the rest of my family to my grandma’s room. I pull the creaky
fold out chair closer to her hospital-like bed. I kiss her soft cheek
and sit down with her hand in mine. With weakness in her eyes, she
looks at me and smiles a gentle smile.
“What
do you want for Christmas, Gammy?” I ask her.
She
replies a simple answer, “to get better.” Tears welt up in my
eyes. You know that toy that was always on your Christmas list to
Santa that you included every year, even though you knew it wasn’t
going to be there when you woke up Christmas day? It’s like that.
I visit my grandma every day
while she is sick. Multiple times a day some days. Today, on December
29, 2012, I didn’t visit her. I decided to hang out with some
friends. Surrounded by people I didn’t really care about, I got the
call.
“Hi
honey.” Silence. My dad has a confident voice, steady and strong,
even on the phone. But the trembling of his voice then, his
breathing, was worse than the silence. I can’t stand the silence.
His
voice was quivering and I knew. What I have been trying to avoid this
past month finally found me. Time stood still and a part of my world
was hit with a meteorite, leaving a massive part missing.
Gone.
My
grandma always put everyone ahead of herself. She was always like
that. She never got the appreciation she deserved. In the hospital
SHE was apologizing to us for her being there. She blamed herself for
everything and all I wanted to do was make her feel special and loved
and wanted.
“I’m
sorry. I’m sorry.” She never explained why she was sorry. She
just was. I still don’t know why.
I
would leave her notes around her house where I know she would go,
telling her that I loved her or that she was beautiful. She kept them
all.
September 19, 2014
Gammy,
I
love you so much. I know I never read you my first letter. Just the
thought of it would bring me to tears. I’m sorry you couldn’t see
yourself the way I saw you. I’m sorry no one talked about your
problem. And I’m sorry we couldn’t save you. But you saved me.
You gave me the strength to keep going and get out of bed. You gave
me the strength to live life and be happy again. Thank you!
Love
Always,
Your
Bunny
