I Wished Her Peace. She Has It Now . . .

Nana,

I went to see you a weeke ago today.  Dad woke me up after about six hours of sleep and said we were going to the hospital.  We saw Uncle Bill first.  Man he looked tiny on the bed.  Anyway, we visited him for awhile cuz you had such limited visiting hours.  I barely said anything.  I don’t like hospitals much.  I’m sure I got that from you.

Anyway, after we left Uncle Bill, Dad led us to go and see you.  He led us down to a room barely big enough for all three of us to fit in.  Yeah, three.  Me, Dad, and Mike.  He wanted to see you, too.  And be there for me in case I broke down.  Which I nearly did.  I just couldn;t stand to see you like that.  You looked bigger than you had, other times you were in the hospital, but you still looked so small on the bed.

I wanted to write you a letter that day, but I didn’t think I could do it without breaking down and sobbing.  I was right, more than likely, because I could barely think about what to say without tearing up.  I mean, you just looked so . . . strange.  You didn’t even have your glasses on . . .

But I digress.  I wanted to write this letter and leave it for a nurse to read to you when you woke up.  But now I have things to add to it.

I don’t know if you knew, but Dolly’s seeing someone.  He seems like a great guy.  His name’s Zeb.  They met down in Texas and he’s one of the main people who helped her see that how Eric treated her was not how a true husband treats his wife.  Bobby’s doing great.  He’s adorable, I’ve seen pictures, and he’s talking more clearly every time Dolly puts him on the phone to me.  He likes Batman and VeggieTales and I think you’d be proud of how Dolly’s raising him.

I’m still working a lot.  Still at Domino’s, too.  I won’t be there forever, though.  I’m definitely gonna make something of myself.  I’m going to be an author.  My name will be a household one.  Then, remember how you always asked "when are you comin’ home?"  Well, once I’m a household name, I’ll always be home, in a way.

I wish that you’d been awake when I was there last week.  Even if you couldn’t hear me, or couldn’t see me at all clearly, I think you would’ve known I was there.  I think you’d have known it was me.  God . . . Nana, I’m so sorry I didn;t come up sooner.  I’m so sorry I was so selfish, thinking I had all the time in the wiorld to see you.  I’m so sorry I didn;t come up and plant flowers in your garden again.  I used everything as an excuse.  Work, trivial car repairs, I didn’t want to come up alone, I’d come up the next week . . .

I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry . . .

Though . . . as guilty as I do feel, I know you still loved me.  When I was six or so years old, I remember when we were going out to the car to come back to NJ, you said you hated to see me go.  And I misunderstood you and thought you said you hated me.  Well, you didn’t hate me then and I know you don’t now.

I love you, Nana.  Always.

Goodbye . . .

Katie.

I was woken up at eight AM, when I’d only gone to sleep around four thirty last night.  My . . . I think it was dad, opened my door and said for me to come downstairs.  I came out just as Mike was and he said something, butI didn’t hear.  I said "What?" as I followed him about halfway down the stairs.  But when I came into view of my parents, Mom was crying and I knew something happened.  I think I realized what it was before she said Nana was gone.  She died at seven-thirty this morning.

For a couple minutes, I just stared straight ahead, letting that fact soak into my head.  Then the tears welled up and they’ve barely stopped since.  The first coherent thought that came to my mind was, "I’ve got to tell Dolly.  She has to know."  Mike hugged me, but after a few more minutes, I just wanted to go upstairs.  So I went and just sat on my bed crying.  Mike got tissues for me a bit later when my nose started clogging.  That’s when I got Ringo, my Beatles Applause doll, from the chair in front of me and just hugged him to my chest.  He and Purpl-grr have been there for me through the toughest times of high school and beyond.

My parents asked me if I wanted to come p with them to say a final goodbye, because right now, her body is still in the hospital.  I said no, though, because I already missed my chance at that, and I don’t want to see her . . . dead.  It’s only her body there.  An empty shell of the fighter she once was.  I’m quite certain that I got my stubbornness from her, as well as my memory.  Anyway.  I didn’t want to see her like that.  I’d rather remember her when she was alive.

I was in the bathroom later on when Dolly called and I hope I was able to comfort her.  I know she did for me.  I actually stopped crying and was laughing during the conversation.  It kind of fluctuated between tears and laughter.

I just . . . I don’t want to say I can’t believe this, because I can.  I was half-expecting it.  I wouldn’t let myself get optimistic about her recovery.  I think something in me knew that this time . . . she wouldn’t come home.

She’s not going to be buried, so we’re not holding a funeral or wake.  Just a memorial service.  Mom said that years ago, Nana told her that she wanted to be cremated and have her ashes spread over her husband’s grave next time we’re out in Washington state.  So, we’re holding the memorial service, not sure when, and her ashes will be here, with us, until we go out to Washington next.

Though I’m still crying right now and have been to varying degrees of severity through writing this, I suppose I am taking this whole thing remarkably well.  Though I guess with my grandpa, one long burst of sobbing and tears was all I really needed.  I mean, I never really saw him, save for the once or twice a year they’d visit.  This is going to be much longer.  I have no idea when I’ll stop crying.  And I still have to take care of a few things.  I need to go to Domino’s today and let them know about this, since there’s going to be a memorial service.  I’ll still go in tomorrow.  I’m not gonna call out or anything.  Admittedly, if I worked today, yeah, I’d call out.  If nothing else, I got three hours sleep, and I don’t forsee sleeping anytime soon on my schedule.  I’ve got a headache and my sinuses hurt from how much I’ve been crying.  All in all, not fun.  But tomorrow, assuming I get sleep tonight, I should be functional.

But yeah.  Work.  I need to tell them about this so that they’ll know to tentatively put me on the schedule next week and that I may have to call out on whatever day.  I’ll keep them informed, cuz both Mike S., and John are understanding when you let them know about stuff.  (Then again, if they weren’t understanding about this, I’d have to do a massacre, but still.)

Anyway, I know that those close to me are going t

o read this.  And I know that if the situations were reversed, I’d feel rather helpless and want to do something for the person/family.  Honestly, anyone who reads this and knows me personally, or just through online contact, or even if you’re just reading my diary for the first time and have an inordinately large amount of compassion, don’t feel helpless, or like there’s nothing you can do.  If you want to do something, go out, buy a flower, and plant it.  Something nice and pretty, like a lily, or marigold, or tulip, or rose.  Nana loved the flowers that Mike and I planted last year in her garden in front of the house.  Dad told me that she would walk to the front door just to stare at the flowers and how nice the yard looked after we did that.  So, please, don’t feel helpless, like you can’t do anything.  You’ll be doing something, for both Nana and me, by planting and taking care of a flower.

R.I.P. Nana — January 1st, 1911 – August 18th, 2005

We’ll always love you.

Log in to write a note
August 18, 2005

I’m really really sorry.I know how hard it is to loose somebody close to you.She isn’t suffering anymore though. I’m here if you just want to talk.

August 18, 2005

I’m really sorry Kate, but you are right. At least your Nana isn’t suffering anymore. She is at peace. But still, you know I’m here if you ever need me. And I’m still around on Sunday if you want to spend some time together, but if you don’t, I understand that as well. *HUGS*

*hugs* My Italian grandfather died in February, and I didn’t get to see him, either, because he had a traditional Jewish funeral, and the girls’ dean wouldn’t let me miss school for something as trivial as my grandfather’s funeral. *even more hugs* I’m so sorry. ~

August 19, 2005

She loved roses and carnations. Every mothers day, I’d buy her carnations, ‘cuz roses were too expensive, and she always said she loved them, but I’ll never forget the look on her face the first time I bought her real roses. I’m going to miss weeding the front yard for her and sweeping the walk–I always thought those things would be there to do when I came back to NY.

August 19, 2005

Do you realize you’re already a household hero, published author or no? You are Dominoes Delivery Girl! You bring pizza to the hungry masses! You are like Superman, only with saucy cheesy, mobile goodness instead of powers and manhood. nana would be proud.