My great grandmother is 96 years old. 96 YEARS OLD! The oldest most interesting person I know. I can honestly say I really do enjoy our visits and conversations. She talks about living in the great depression, rights of women, race, styles of clothing. She isn’t shy, or hesitant, she talks to me with full truth. I admire this quality about her. That is except for the few times when she talks about things like bodily functions and such, then I’m just plain uncomfortable.
Now my grandma has cancer. A tumor found in her stomach. Although no body says it bluntly, we all share a common knowing that this is the end. I love my grandma very much, but in all due respect the situation does not feel that bad. My grandma is 96, she has lived almost a century now. She has experienced most of what she can, and my family can accept that her time is quickly running out.
Over break I went to visit her. Mostly just wanting to see her, but partially for the assignment. In the five-minute car ride there my dad more or less told me to be careful with what I say. He advised me to stay about from topics like dying, death, and hospitals. I guess he figured that keeping the ideas out of our heads and her head would make the journey a little less emotionally painful? I’m not sure why but this is when I felt partially sad. It is like Beth Barnett and her husband Erik. Like my dad she thought it would be better to use 100% positive thinking and so refused to every use words relating to death or dying. Now I don’t necessarily agree with that. We are all in the same boat, faced with the scary idea of limited living time, talking about death, accepting it I think makes it easier. But that’s just me.
We pulled up to the symmetrical apartment building complex. My grandmothers assistant greeted us at the door, almost the same way she answered the phone when I called to confirm that we were coming over. Her assistant takes on most of the jobs now. (After my grandmother refused to live in a nursing home, my family hired an assistant to be with her.) My family did that to make her more comfortable. They did not want her being alone in case something happened or she needed anything. However they also did not want to be the one who was there all the time.
I walking in and hugged my grandma. I did it gently barely really touching her. She was weak and frail and I was really afraid I was going to hurt her. She was so little; the chair she sat in cradled her. Her hair was pure white, some of her wrinkles enlarged by her glasses. I immediately got a whiff of that smell. You know, the smell of age. It didn’t make me uncomfortable, I expected it. I took my seat beside her. I partially screamed when I told her about school, my unit about dying. Remembering what my dad had said I tried to change the subject, but I found that she did not mind talking about it. We didn’t go into detail but she notified me that she knew she was dying. My grandma had no choice but to be ok with it. I keep things simply; I asked her how she felt. I did know how to response when she said, “I feel my body disintegrating more everyday.” It felt like someone threw a think blanket over me. This was our heaviest conversation yet.
The hardest part about this visit was saying goodbye. Goodbye? Defined as “a conventional expression used at leave-taking or parting with people.” I mean say it all the time. (That rhymes) I say it so causally, throwing it around at the end of every conversation. I have never said a goodbye knowing that it might actually be my last.
Arden I enjoyed reading your post. At times it was witty, harsh, but most of all real. I feel like you really talked about the situation from your perspective , you never lost your voice in even talking about a serious and sadd topic. I wonder tho can your really say she's experience everything? do you ever really get that old? Even at 96 I cant see anyone alright with death. Theirs always somthing you could of done, or should of said. I felt you hit on a really intresting point point, when you said she knew she was dying but all she could do was accept it. Its odd idea to grasp, the idea of knowing your dying and theirs nothing you can do.Jean-Paul Sartre ones said "The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it." I wonder if this is true for your great grandmother, does she see life a little clearer ? does she see who was important ? who she loved ? how her life played out ? And what does this mean for you, teenagers are age ? Should we not spend are life's as carelessly as most of do ? Should we make decesions knowingg that one day will judge ourselves for them. To you 96 seemed like a long life, I wonder for your great grandmother if that seemed like not anove.Stories like these always make me sit and think about how Im living my life.It makes me think of relationships of made and relationships Ive ruined. Of things Ive said and things I havent. It makes me think all the things I want do before Im disintegrating . I guess if anything thats the gift of dying and illness not so much for the person dying but the people around them, it lets you reflect and maybe even change. My biggest fear in dying, second to the pain, has to be my fear That I might regreat decisions.But I guess at one point or another will all have somone sayng goodbye to us.
ReplyDeleteArden I really could feel myself visiting your grandmother from the car ride seeing her to saying bye. I like how you elaborated on what was said before visiting your grandmother and why she actually visiting her. It relates to the common social practices around dealing with death and illness. Assistant having to be with your grandmother for comfort in a place that she doesn’t want to be. This reminds me of my grandmother because she also dreaded the fact of being in a nursing home but providing her with nursing aid made situation better or more comforting. People shy away from the cruel reality of hospitals and death and things of that sort to make the situation less painful. But why blame them.
ReplyDeleteArden,
ReplyDeleteGreat post.
Sometimes the difficulty of particular topics (dying and loss generally) gets compounded with the unaccustomedness of the conversation.
A good move can be to ask, "How is that for you? How do you feel about that?" Another might be to ask, "What can you tell me about that experience that would help me to be ready for it?"
Arden, Amazing post. This made a million thoughts run through my head. This was very interesting.
ReplyDeleteI know exactly how you feel, (considering that she is my grandmother as well). I felt as if your writing came from your heart, you were easy to understand and honest with the reader. I absolutly love the last line! Personally i think about that all the time, how your goodbye might actually be your last. great job.Another line that i love is:
"We are all in the same boat, faced with the scary idea of limited living time, talking about death, accepting it I think makes it easier. But that’s just me."
Not only do i agree with you, but this line makes me wonder how people always think about themselves when someone dies, like, what is going to happen in MY future? How will I feel when this person is gone? How will I handle all of this? These questions would/do run through my head too, but no one really stops to think how the person dying may feel about all of this. You did a nice job capturing your thoughts as well as what you think our great grandma is thinking about her time left with us. Once again, great job, very inspiring!!!
"We are all in the same boat, faced with the scary idea of limited living time, talking about death, accepting it I think makes it easier." I really liked this line and how you presented it. I agree with what you're saying.You are a very good writer, my attention was grasped as soon as I started reading.
ReplyDeleteWhat a well written, insightful, and heartfelt commentary. You made me think about my own limited lifespan and that of my family around me. Immediately after reading it, I gave my youngest child a hard hug. He pushed me away with "Mommmmmm!" but it didnt phase me. Arden, your essay blog made me pause and reflect. Not an easy thing to do in the hectic lives we all lead.
ReplyDeleteJanet Pouchot