Wednesday, June 11, 2003
A DEATH IN THE FAMILY Wednesday, May 28, 2003
It was my 14th birthday. Mom had fixed a big meal and the whole family was sitting around the living room trying to digest it. The TV was on in the corner and I was sitting at my Great Grandma Cook's feet. She was a sweet woman who still looked damn good for almost 90. My back was resting against her legs. There was a pleasant buzz of conversation around me. Then silence, sudden silence. The atmosphere turned tense. My mother ordered me to my room. No explanation, just ordered me to my room. There was confusion, rushing around. I was scared and had no idea why. I usually question everything my parents said or asked, but this time I just went to my room. My mother warned me not to dare come out. I was petrified. I had no idea what had happened. It was getting dark. I heard the sound of an ambulance. Lights flashing, it pulled into our driveway. I watched out my bedroom window as two medics rushed in our house with an oxygen tank. I heard cries and shuffling and commotion. I strained my ears and eyes to see to hear what was going on. I don't remember how long this was, but again there was silence. I saw the medics carry something, someone out of the house on a stretcher. They were covered with a white sheet.
No one came to get me. I stayed in my room. I went to bed. I couldn't sleep. Early the next morning mom came in and told me Grandma Cook had died. Just died. Right there in her wing-backed chair, comfortable after a big meal with her family around her, she closed her eyes and went to sleep and then just stopped breathing. I don't know what I felt. I can't remember. Maybe because they felt I couldn't handle it.
Since then there have been other deaths in the family. My Grandfather died in his bed in a very similar way. He just laid down one night, said good night to my Gram and did not wake up. He was the first dead person I ever touched. My Gram lived a long time. My mother (her daughter) complained about her constantly. As Gram aged my life took me in many other directions. It was left to her own daughter to care. My parents wanted to retire to Florida, get away from the cold winters in NY. My dad was tired of having his boat dock freeze up and get heaved out of the water every winter. So, they put Gram in a home in Long Island NY and moved to Florida. I was on my own personal odyssey and only visited Gram once in the home. She was cheery and seemed lucid when I visited her. After a half hour conversation, she asked the same questions all over again. It was funny, she was so chirpy and bright and seemed so aware, but nothing hung in there. It was like a hampster on a wheel, going round and round, but I loved her. I wanted to squeeze her, and kiss her, and take her home and care for her-but at that point I had no place to bring her. No home.
She died alone. My mother and father were in Florida. I was in Europe, living in a commune. They found some huge tumor in her. It was so big when they found it that there was no hope, no chance. They told my parents to just let her die. My parents and I were astranged at the time, so I never knew exactly when it was that she died. As I write this I'm crying. I loved my Gram. Nobody should die alone.
It was my 14th birthday. Mom had fixed a big meal and the whole family was sitting around the living room trying to digest it. The TV was on in the corner and I was sitting at my Great Grandma Cook's feet. She was a sweet woman who still looked damn good for almost 90. My back was resting against her legs. There was a pleasant buzz of conversation around me. Then silence, sudden silence. The atmosphere turned tense. My mother ordered me to my room. No explanation, just ordered me to my room. There was confusion, rushing around. I was scared and had no idea why. I usually question everything my parents said or asked, but this time I just went to my room. My mother warned me not to dare come out. I was petrified. I had no idea what had happened. It was getting dark. I heard the sound of an ambulance. Lights flashing, it pulled into our driveway. I watched out my bedroom window as two medics rushed in our house with an oxygen tank. I heard cries and shuffling and commotion. I strained my ears and eyes to see to hear what was going on. I don't remember how long this was, but again there was silence. I saw the medics carry something, someone out of the house on a stretcher. They were covered with a white sheet.
No one came to get me. I stayed in my room. I went to bed. I couldn't sleep. Early the next morning mom came in and told me Grandma Cook had died. Just died. Right there in her wing-backed chair, comfortable after a big meal with her family around her, she closed her eyes and went to sleep and then just stopped breathing. I don't know what I felt. I can't remember. Maybe because they felt I couldn't handle it.
Since then there have been other deaths in the family. My Grandfather died in his bed in a very similar way. He just laid down one night, said good night to my Gram and did not wake up. He was the first dead person I ever touched. My Gram lived a long time. My mother (her daughter) complained about her constantly. As Gram aged my life took me in many other directions. It was left to her own daughter to care. My parents wanted to retire to Florida, get away from the cold winters in NY. My dad was tired of having his boat dock freeze up and get heaved out of the water every winter. So, they put Gram in a home in Long Island NY and moved to Florida. I was on my own personal odyssey and only visited Gram once in the home. She was cheery and seemed lucid when I visited her. After a half hour conversation, she asked the same questions all over again. It was funny, she was so chirpy and bright and seemed so aware, but nothing hung in there. It was like a hampster on a wheel, going round and round, but I loved her. I wanted to squeeze her, and kiss her, and take her home and care for her-but at that point I had no place to bring her. No home.
She died alone. My mother and father were in Florida. I was in Europe, living in a commune. They found some huge tumor in her. It was so big when they found it that there was no hope, no chance. They told my parents to just let her die. My parents and I were astranged at the time, so I never knew exactly when it was that she died. As I write this I'm crying. I loved my Gram. Nobody should die alone.
