Post by Silver on Jun 5, 2008 20:56:34 GMT -8
I lay on the couch, reading my precious book like I have been for the past two hours. The familier click click clack click click clack, of my sister typing nearby is comforting. The front door opens. Dad is home. I call out a cheerful hello, relieved he is home. I need to get on to the computer for a project, and I want to talk to my friends. Dad asks us how we've been, then wordlessly goes upstairs. With a frown, I noticed my chance of getting on the computer has slipped. Oh well. I'll ask mom. Returning to the comfort of my book, most is forgotten. Im memorized by the words filling the page. I hear the garage, and see the cat jump up. Mom is home now. I still haven't heard from Dad since he disappeared upstairs. I would give my mother a hug, like I used to, but I'm far too comfortable on the couch. After Mom has settled in, she glances at us warily. "What did you dad say when he got home?" she asked. "Not much," my sister replies. I'm too engrossed in my book to notice my mother's tone. My sister doesn't seem to notice it either, too busy with her computer. Why? I mumble
So simple. So... to the point. How can such common words make my heart rip awake and fall, fall down from it's resting paradise? My book shuts with a loud Snap! My jaw drops in surprise. A snicker from my sister. "Come on. You can't honestly be surprised by this," she sneers, turning back to her screen. Suddenly I'm screaming inside, running, running back to my grandma, my Nana. Back to her highlighter orange room with my aunt and uncle. In reality, im frozen, with pain and grief and shock. My mother sees my tears, and comes to my side. And suddenly I hate my sister. Hate how she acts like mom had just said the usual, Nana's not doing so well. Hate how she can sit there like nothing ever happened. And I ate how out of control my emotions are rocketing. Finally, my body and mind settles on grief, and the tears flow like water from the sink. Ragged sobs escape me as Mom comes to sit beside me. She strokes my hair, trying to calm me. I tell the tears to stop, tell them it was so obvious how close the end was, but they wouldn't stop. I thought she could have lasted until the summer was the only thought that ran though my head. I told Mom so. And I sat there and cried. I cried for the grandfather I'd never known; I cried for the grandmother I couldn't remember; I cried for the tears I should have shead for my Papa. And I cried for my last grandparent, gone like the rest. A picture sprang to mind. Nana and Papa, side by side with Papa wearing his old school uniform. School. I had school tomorrow. Tomorrow was the big carnival, the last Friday of the year. And I'd have to go through it all with my heart aching and tears pricking at my eyes with every thought, every memory. Try to remember all the good times you had with Nana, Mom whispers. But it's the good memories that make me cry. Never again will I play Skipbo with her. Never again would feel her arms wrapped around me. I hadn't seen her smile in months, but I could still remember it. Still remember her before she lost herself. It never should have happen to such a strong old woman like her. It took her away; Nana was no longer my Nana. She was someone else, someone weak and frail who relied on someone else. That first trip to the hospital, I had lost my Nana. At least I still had that scrap of her that was left, still present in her. But now that was gone too. I remember how I had to teach Nana Skipbo, the game she had tought me as a child. I watched her confused expression as she tried to register what I was saying. It hurt me, deeper that any wound I've ever had, to see her struggle with the game she used to beat me so brutely at. What hope I had for her had left me that day. I just couldn't take much more. And suddenly, I was no longer sad. I was grateful, even. I would never have to go through the pain of that again. I'd never have to look at her pale face, and shy away because what I saw saddened me. I'm not sure when my tears finally dried, when I finally let go of Mom's hand. The things that happened between when I got up and when I went to sleep were a blurr to me. I remember a beeping oven, talk of dinner, and the smell of fresh peanut butter cookies. My sister had gone to bed, and I finished my book. Life continued, the truth locked behind my hidden eyes. I knew tomorrow, conciously or not, I would be silent, and my friends would pester me, try to find the source of my sorrow. Suddenly I longed for Daniel's arms around me in a rare hug, my best friend's encouraging words. I longed for their friendship, but at the same time would hate it. My eyes still sting from the tears as I write this, to tell you of my grief. It is late. I must go to sleep. And only now I remember my father, who must feel even worse than me, to lose his mother. I will have to give him a hug tomorrow. He will understand my silent gesture. So I ask, if one day, you will do something to help prevent someone, maybe even younger than I, from feeling my pain. From losing their loved one to the horror called cancer. Do not rest, for when you do, it's another life lost. Another child's family or friend pulled away forever. So try, try until a cure is found for the nightmare called cancer.
(Sorry, was tired and depressed when written :
"Well...your grandmother passed away this afternoon"
So simple. So... to the point. How can such common words make my heart rip awake and fall, fall down from it's resting paradise? My book shuts with a loud Snap! My jaw drops in surprise. A snicker from my sister. "Come on. You can't honestly be surprised by this," she sneers, turning back to her screen. Suddenly I'm screaming inside, running, running back to my grandma, my Nana. Back to her highlighter orange room with my aunt and uncle. In reality, im frozen, with pain and grief and shock. My mother sees my tears, and comes to my side. And suddenly I hate my sister. Hate how she acts like mom had just said the usual, Nana's not doing so well. Hate how she can sit there like nothing ever happened. And I ate how out of control my emotions are rocketing. Finally, my body and mind settles on grief, and the tears flow like water from the sink. Ragged sobs escape me as Mom comes to sit beside me. She strokes my hair, trying to calm me. I tell the tears to stop, tell them it was so obvious how close the end was, but they wouldn't stop. I thought she could have lasted until the summer was the only thought that ran though my head. I told Mom so. And I sat there and cried. I cried for the grandfather I'd never known; I cried for the grandmother I couldn't remember; I cried for the tears I should have shead for my Papa. And I cried for my last grandparent, gone like the rest. A picture sprang to mind. Nana and Papa, side by side with Papa wearing his old school uniform. School. I had school tomorrow. Tomorrow was the big carnival, the last Friday of the year. And I'd have to go through it all with my heart aching and tears pricking at my eyes with every thought, every memory. Try to remember all the good times you had with Nana, Mom whispers. But it's the good memories that make me cry. Never again will I play Skipbo with her. Never again would feel her arms wrapped around me. I hadn't seen her smile in months, but I could still remember it. Still remember her before she lost herself. It never should have happen to such a strong old woman like her. It took her away; Nana was no longer my Nana. She was someone else, someone weak and frail who relied on someone else. That first trip to the hospital, I had lost my Nana. At least I still had that scrap of her that was left, still present in her. But now that was gone too. I remember how I had to teach Nana Skipbo, the game she had tought me as a child. I watched her confused expression as she tried to register what I was saying. It hurt me, deeper that any wound I've ever had, to see her struggle with the game she used to beat me so brutely at. What hope I had for her had left me that day. I just couldn't take much more. And suddenly, I was no longer sad. I was grateful, even. I would never have to go through the pain of that again. I'd never have to look at her pale face, and shy away because what I saw saddened me. I'm not sure when my tears finally dried, when I finally let go of Mom's hand. The things that happened between when I got up and when I went to sleep were a blurr to me. I remember a beeping oven, talk of dinner, and the smell of fresh peanut butter cookies. My sister had gone to bed, and I finished my book. Life continued, the truth locked behind my hidden eyes. I knew tomorrow, conciously or not, I would be silent, and my friends would pester me, try to find the source of my sorrow. Suddenly I longed for Daniel's arms around me in a rare hug, my best friend's encouraging words. I longed for their friendship, but at the same time would hate it. My eyes still sting from the tears as I write this, to tell you of my grief. It is late. I must go to sleep. And only now I remember my father, who must feel even worse than me, to lose his mother. I will have to give him a hug tomorrow. He will understand my silent gesture. So I ask, if one day, you will do something to help prevent someone, maybe even younger than I, from feeling my pain. From losing their loved one to the horror called cancer. Do not rest, for when you do, it's another life lost. Another child's family or friend pulled away forever. So try, try until a cure is found for the nightmare called cancer.
I have felt the pain of a thousand loses, and this wound will never heal. But the pain is dulled by the fact that Nana left the agony she must have felt, even at the cost of leaving us. She left this world farbehind, to join Papa in the stars.
We'll miss you, Nana. You'll always be remembered in our hearts
(Sorry, was tired and depressed when written :