An Open Letter to My Grandmother (On the Anniversary of Her Death)

My Grandmother died five days before my seventh birthday on the 23rd of April 1997. These are things I would say to her if I knew she could hear me.

Dear Granny,

Seventeen years. Wow. Nearly two decades. You’ve been dead almost three times as long as I’ve been alive and I miss you. I miss you so much my heart is sore and I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes or the pain I feel. And I want you to know that every person who told me that my heart would heal and that the pain would stop was a liar. It has never stopped hurting. It just hurts differently.

I don’t regret many things in life but I regret that my seven-year-old self did not realize how serious things were when I saw you that last time. And, I’m sorry Granny because I spent the entire time in that hospital room being slightly awed that I’d finally seen an oxygen mask in “real life” for the first time. You see I thought in no time you’d be home and everything would be alright. I couldn’t understand why the aunts were crying or the cousins or my mum so I didn’t try to understand. I just kept focusing on that stupid mask. And, I’m sorry because when ma called me into her room the next morning and told me you had died I was too busy watching the sunlight filter through the window. Now that I have had years to think about it, I think I just didn’t want to hear. I’m sorry that I didn’t cry then. I’m sorry that I didn’t cry in the days that followed and that I still managed to be excited for my birthday. I’m sorry that the highlight of the day of your funeral was that I got out of school early. I’m sorry I didn’t cry then either. But, seventeen years later, I still see your casket being wheeled up the aisle sometimes when I let my guard down. And I’ve cried so many tears since then that my teardrops should be enough to build me an ocean to swim to wherever you are. I cry whenever I see an old woman walking down the road because I wish you were still here. And I cry because I hate the world for having the audacity to keep on spinning without you in it. You’ve missed weddings and graduations and the birth of great-grandchildren. You’ve missed a black president and iPads. You’d be so surprised to see how big we’ve all gotten now. And, remember that time I convinced you to give me your grape soda and have my orange juice instead? Remember how I pointed out that sodas were unhealthy and you were old so you needed the Vitamin C more than I did? Yes, I know I argued more than most kids my age. And yes, I know sometimes I was probably a little bit (read: very) annoying. Well, you’d be proud to know that I’ve figured out a way to make arguing a job. Let’s hope the Courts are ready for me.

I panic sometimes because it’s getting harder and harder to remember your face. You’ve become hazy in my mind. Forgive me but I don’t remember your voice or your laugh. I can’t remember your smile. I’ve not forgotten everything, though. I remember that you were loving and kind. I remember that you were really, really patient when I got into trouble wandering off like some wild-child when everyone else my age was stuck in pre-school. I remember your favourite hymn was the Lily of the Valley. I know we sang it at your funeral. And, although it may have been a big stretch to think that Lilies were your favourite flowers too – I’ve assigned them to you. In a couple years from now (many, many, many), some little girl will bear the name Lily in honour of you.

I can’t remember everything, Granny, but I remember the love I felt for you. And, even without you here it continues to grow, because neither time nor the icy fingers of death can dislodge the torch I will always carry for you in my heart.

So sleep on beautiful soul.

I love you.

Photo Credit: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net per kongsky

Rilzy

PS: If you and Uncle Joe are together right now tell him I’m still here, holding the fort and stirring up enough trouble to make him proud.

Freefall

 

Emily clutched the straps of her knapsack so tightly it burned the palm of her hand. The airline clerk was speaking but she’d stop listening after hearing the words ‘No further flights’. All thoughts flew from her head as she comprehended what that meant. She’d have to stay in this godforsaken place for another day. Emily closed her eyes tightly. She wasn’t sure if her already frayed nerves could handle it.

“Is there anything?” she pleaded. “Anything at all?”

The airport clerk furrowed her forehead, pursed her lips and sighed.

“I’ve told you two times already,” she glanced at the computer. “Ms Jones. You have missed the last flight to New York. There isn’t another one until ten in the morning.”

“I don’t mind having stops,” Emily said.

“There aren’t any more flights.”

Emily’s grip on the strap tightened. She leaned forward and whispered, “I can’t stay in Seattle. I need to leave.”

This time the clerk didn’t mask the annoyance in her voice, “I’m sure all the other people who missed their flights feel the same way love. But they, like you, will also have to wait.”

Emily bit on her bottom lip trying to distract herself from the ache in her gut. She was well aware that she cut a horrendous picture. Her thick, black curls were pulled back into a slack ponytail with escaped tendrils haphazardly framing her oval face. The brown shirt she’d pulled on without a second through made her cinnamon skin look washed out. Her strategy didn’t work and before she could stop herself she burst into tears.

The clerk’s eyes widened as she darted her gaze from Emily to her computer and back to Emily again. Emily was willing to bet that of all the people she had said she’d seen being agitated about the missed flight she was the only on to pull out the hysterics.

She tried taking deep breaths but the tears kept coming. The box of pain she’d sealed inside her seemed to break. She wasn’t able to fight against the torrent of overwhelming grief that rushed out.

She couldn’t spend another night in Seattle. She couldn’t return to his house, sleep in his room – in his bed amongst his trophies and childhood photos. She couldn’t rest her head on his pillow and expect to get through the night. There was only so much a heart could break and continue to beat.

“Are you okay?” the clerk asked. Her hazel eyes were wary and her shoulders stiff.  She angled herself away from Emily as if she expected her to lose it completely.

“I’ll be fine,” Emily sniffled.

She started turning from the check in counter when the clerk finally said, “I can give you a voucher for a room. You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

Emily wiped the tears from her face and tried to smile, “Thanks.”

The only place Emily wanted to be in that very moment was sitting in an airplane on her way back to New York. With a deflated sigh she acknowledged that that wasn’t going to happen – at least not tonight. She tried to be thankful for the small victories. At least she didn’t have to go back to Aiden’s parents’ house and explain to them that she’d missed her flight. She didn’t have to spend another night in his room. Emily wiped the errant tears still streaming down her face and hailed a taxi.

The hotel was a five-minute drive from the airport. After a quick shower, Emily decided against dinner and crawled into the double bed.

Emily twisted towards the soft hand that stroked her cheek. Slowly she opened her eyes and met blue ones. Emily smiled and reached out to him.

“I miss you,” she whispered placing her hand on his chest so that she could feel the steady tha-thump, tha-thump of his heart.

He tucked one of her tendrils behind her ear and kissed her softly on her forehead.

“You know this isn’t real right baby?” He gave her that small sad smile she’d become used to seeing. Emily’s eyes welled with tears.

“I want you here Aiden,” she said. “I need you here.”

“I love you Millie,” he wiped the tears from her face. “Promise me you’ll love me forever.”

“Don’t go,” she sobbed. “Please.”

But he was already gone.

Emily shot up in bed gasping, her chest tight and heavy. She didn’t try to wipe away the tears flowing down her cheek and unto the pillowcase. She hated dreaming about him the most. In those first seconds she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers and the smell of his cologne and for those seconds she could convince herself that he was still alive. Then always with jarring clarity she’d realize that she’d never feel his warmth or hear his voice again. The aching, empty hollowness that came along with that realization was enough to stop her breaths.

Emily swung her legs over the side of the bed and buried her head between her legs. She took deep, slow breaths until the panic that welled in her lessened. When she could breathe again she walked to the small bathroom and flipped on the switch. The bright, cheery yellow walls added an edge to her sadness. Ten days ago those walls would make her smile. Emily stared at her face in the mirror. Her face was gaunt and her yes bloodshot and unfocussed. She could almost hear Aiden gently chastising her for not taking better care of herself. Emily sighed. She’d do anything to have him alive and teasing in her arms again. Emily didn’t know the first or last thing about dealing with death. Was she supposed to walk around weeping, wailing and gnashing her teeth? Or was she to bottle everything up inside and pretend to be strong even though she never felt more broken or defeated? At nineteen Emily had never experienced the death of someone close, even her Gramps and Gran stilled lived happily together in a retirement home. The cold fingers of Death had never touched her until He walked in uninvited and snatched away the love of her life. She remembered the call.

“There’s been an accident. He’s gone.”

She remembered how she tightly grasped at the phone hoping that it was some twisted joke, hoping that someone would jump out of the shadows and shout ‘April Fools’ but it was March.

She still struggled to grasp that he could be there laughing with her, making her breakfast one morning and then the next lying cold and stiff in a morgue before the sun set. She couldn’t get the images of his coffin being lowered so deeply into the cold, dank dirt that she would never be reach him.

Emily grabbed on to the edges of the sink when another tightening of her chest left her lightheaded. For the first time she wished she had allowed her roommate to come with her. When Leigha asked her if she was sure she could go through Aiden’s funeral alone she was too numb with shock to think it through. Then again, she had also lashed out at her father when he suggested she stayed in a hotel rather than with Aiden’s family. When she closed her eyes she could still see the navy blue and red walls of his room and the photos on the wall of a smiling Aiden with no front teeth and of him as a toddler taking a bath. Emily bit her bottom lip until she tasted the metallic sting of blood and no longer felt the urge to scream until she was hoarse. Then she sank down on those bright yellow, cheery tiles and cried until exhausted she fell asleep in the wetness of her tears.

Photo Credit: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net
User Credit: antpk

© Rilzy Adams, 2013

 

The World Has Lost Its Most Beautiful Soul – RIP Uncle J

I’ve turned off all the lights and I feel affinity with the darkness. The blackness that covers the walls is much like the darkness that shrouds my heart right now. I’ve cried until I’ve wretched and until air wouldn’t pass into my lungs. But these tears aren’t enough to wash away the blackness just like they will never be enough to bring him back. The thing about grief is that it becomes an albatross around your neck dragging you down to depths of despair and anchoring you there… so that you drown.

It has been thirteen days since my mother awoke me with one of those early morning calls which never bestow good news

“I have bad news,” she said. “It’s about your Uncle.”

And I was silent because she didn’t have to say it. It was the news I’d feared for so long. After three years of battling lung cancer – he was gone. Just like that. No coming back. A piece of my heart was shattered, irrevocably broken.

It still amazes me that the days drag on lazily… the sun rises and sets, people continue along their daily lives – in fact, in some ways so do I. Except I want to scream at the world, scream at anyone who will listen… “Don’t you know that the world has just lost the most beautiful soul” … things aren’t the same, things aren’t normal… things will never be the same again.

I’m numb as I write this. Sometimes for hours at a time I think about him and I ‘forget’ that he’s gone. Apparently I’m good at denial. But I’m not good enough… never good enough. Eventually something hits me like the fact I will never hear his deep, throaty laugh again. I’ll never receive those phone calls the day after Christmas saying ‘Happy Kwanzaa’. I’ll never hear him say ‘I love you niecey’. And I’ll never be able to say ‘I love you’. He will never see me become a lawyer or publish my first book.

My mind is a muddled slideshow of choppy childhood memories of him teaching me to snorkel and surprising me with a snorkeling kit because the one time I did it I thought it was fun. Memories of running barefoot along beaches with him and him trying (and failing) to teach me to swim. My mind is a muddled slideshow of memories of him helping me pick out a bedspread for my college dorm. Memories of him telling me how proud he was of me when I finished my degree. My mind is a muddled slideshow of memories of him promising me that he would fight the cancer, and that he’d win. Memories of me believing because in my mind it was Uncle Joe and he was invincible.

My heart clutches to the last conversation we had. His voice was still filled with the same cheer that was synonymous with the man who bought me chicken nuggets in bulk just to see me smile – with the man who endured my incessant chatter and was never too busy to just sit and listen.

The last words he said to me was “I love you to niecey”in response to my “I love you.” It was the way we ended each conversation, not out of habit but because it truly only took one laugh, one joke for me to remember just how much I did love him. I’m happy that those were the last words I heard him say … and those words still echo in my mind.

I sit here in the darkness wishing that I could bring him back… wishing that I go back and make it so that this never happened. These are tall wishes. I know if he were near right now he’d encourage me to turn on the lights and turn off the sad music. He’d dry these tears that blur my vision so that it is hard to type. He’d tell me that everything happens for a reason… he’d tell me that everything would be okay.

His last words to my mother were that he loved her and he made her promise to take care of me. I guess, by extension, I should honour his wishes by taking care of myself. But that is for some other night… tonight I shall surround myself with the darkness and cry into my pillow for losing him. I’ll cry into my pillow for this world for it has lost its most beautiful soul.

 

In my heart I will always be a little girl and he will always be invincible.
“Everything cherished remembered in my heart,
so you will never perish you will never part
They put you in the ground but I’ll see you in the stars
Love always shines that’s how I’ll find you
I’ll NEVER forget you.”

 

Hurt (October 3rd 2010)

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do, to have just one more chance – to look into your eyes and see you looking back.” – Inspiration: Hurt Christina Aguilera

He swallowed the metallic taste of blood and squeezed his eyes shut. His lips stung but he continued biting them. He refused to allow the tears to fall. If he allowed one tear, there would be no stopping the others. They would stream down his face and unto the damned earth already sodden by the rain. No, he would not cry today – he would allow the skies to wail for him.

Although he stood rooted in his place next to the fat woman in the enormous black hat and a mahogany tree, his insides shook so badly he was fearful he would fall and take the woman and her hat along with him. It was a hell of a time to realize that he was, and had always been, in love with his best friend.

Chronos, the god of time, must have been sleeping on the job for all of the last twelve years. If there was ever a case of bad timing, this was it. Marc stared off into the distance being held to reality by the screams, the wailing, the smell of wet, unearthed dust and the soft droplets of rain falling unto his freshly shaved head, sliding down his face as tears would.

The somber voice of the priest interrupted his steady descent into hell, “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”

Everyone joined him then with, “Ashes to ashes – dust to dust…” as Christina’s mother shaking held a fist full of damp, earth and threw into the hole where his Chrissie; bright, vivacious lay in a ivory casket in the yellow gown she had worn to their high school ball.

“Marc.”

He snapped slowly out of his trance and took several unsteady steps towards her mother. They had discussed this already – that before they began shoveling the earth unto the grave, trapping her there – those closest to her would place a palm full, for a sense of closure. Bullshit. Nothing would bring him closure. Nothing would bring him peace. Nothing would erase the pain. They could take their sentimental, ritualistic bull and go to hell. Nothing could make this right. Nothing except bringing his Christina back. He glanced through the crowd until his eyes locked on the one person he was amazed had the nerve to even attend the funeral. Richard.

“You must have balls of steel,” he said before he could stop himself pushing through the crowd, ignoring her mother’s voice calling at him to stop,

“YOU KILLED HER. YOU SON OF A BITCH…”

“Marc…”

“YOU KILLED HER…”

He punched him square in the jaw, and although Richard stepped backward feeling his slowly bloodied mouth, Marc’s anger didn’t abate, “You were drunk, you knew it. Why did you drive?”

Richard started taking another step backward as Marc raised his fist again.

“Stop that macho-man.”

Marc turned convinced that he was going insane. There she was sitting Indian styled on the wet soil, looking ridiculous in the poufy yellow dress.

She giggled then and he chest felt as if it ribs had been forced upon with pliers so that he could finally breathe.

“Chrissie.”

He took several steps towards her and held her tightly, inhaling the jasmine fragrance she always wore.

“Oh god,” he whispered. “I am so sorry.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it.”

He brushed her hair from her face accepting the lie. They both knew that he could have. They both knew what happened before she got into that car with Richard.

“I don’t love him anymore,” she said matter-of -factly, sitting on the edge of his bed what now seemed like ages ago.

There was something in her tone that had caused him to look up from his laptop, “Really? Come on I have heard this seventy times before.”

“I’m sure.”

She said it quietly as she scooted closer to him.

He laughed not believing her. He really had heard that line too many times before. It was like her theme song after every fight, after every disappointment – and in her relationship with Richard there were many.

“Really? How?”

“Because,” she started coyly. “I am in love with someone else.”

The shock must have registered on his face because she giggled, “You want to know who?”

He grinned, “We can definitely agree on that one.”

She never did tell him who but she reached over again planted her lips softly on his – then more intensely. He pulled away from her abruptly, “Let’s not go there Chrissie.”

She had recoiled hurt, but he had persisted. He listed the excuses; their friendship was too precious, she was only trying to get back at Richard again, it was too much of a risk.

“Let me take you home,” he had offered, he had needed to clear his head.

She had shaken her head telling him that she rather spend the thirty minute ride home with Richard and hadn’t even said goodbye as she sat on the verandah waiting for her errant boyfriend to arrive. He should have called her back – he should have insisted that … he should have admitted…

“Don’t go there.”

He snapped back to reality – to Christina, in his arms – her large brown eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can’t change it.”

“Chrissie,” he whispered softly. “I… I love you.”

She nodded solemnly allowing a tear to fall, “I know.”

Then with a kiss on his cheek, she was gone.

The glass vase he had held his tears in for the past week and a half cracked and then smashed into the millions of tiny pieces as he fell to his knees; crying along with the rain at her half filled grave.

“I love you,” he repeated again and again until it became angry shouts, screams that he refused to hold in, even if he could have found an ounce of self-control. Yes, Chronos must have been sleeping on the job, indeed. If only he had lost his self control ten days before.

© rilzy

October 3rd 2010 7:50 PM

 

Untitled Short Story – – – May 20th 2012

Love is watching someone die.

                    What Sarah Said – Death Cab for Cutie

May 2012

I buried my toes into the cool sand, raised my feet and shook them gently watching the grains fall back to the ground. I sighed. It didn’t matter how deep I buried it, how far I ran from it or how careful I hid. Like the sand all it took was a gentle shake before the barriers fell away and I was left painfully exposed.

February 2012

“Why so glum chum?”

I turned my head so that I could look into his eyes. They sparkled with the mischief that branded him like a tattoo. I tried to ignore the tourniquet that wrapped itself around my chest and forced a smile.

“I’m fine.”

He gave my shoulder a small squeeze and I tried once again to force the words out my mouth. I attempted to go for the truth but it stuck to my throat along with my courage. Resting my head against his chest I tried to find comfort in the silence. We had done this so many times before – sitting on the beach, lost in our own worlds watching the sun become a falling ball of fire. But today the silence was oppressive. The fog of the things left unsaid snatched the oxygen from the air and I could not breathe.

I stared out at the sun slowly sinking on the horizon and the purple and pink clouds swirling in the pale blue of the sky. It was funny how the day was most beautiful during its last moments.

I willed the tears that hid just behind my eyelids not to fall. I took a deep breath, “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

He grinned – his brown eyes still alight with mischief. I swallowed the tears. Soon there would be no mischief there –  the sparkle would be gone.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine. He tasted like the remnants of the cheesecake we’d had with lunch and felt like the heaven I could already feel slipping away. I pulled away when I could no longer stop the tears from falling.

“How long have you known?”

He stared out at the ocean, “I don’t know. Two months maybe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pulled me closer, “I was waiting for the right time. But there was no right time.”

“How long…?”

I let the question hang although I didn’t want to know the answer. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

He shook his head, “I love you.”

“That doesn’t answer…”

“That’s all you need to know.”

I started to protest but he placed his index finger on my lips and shook his head again, “That’s all you need to know.”

April 2012

“Are you cold?”

He shook his head but I still moved to get another set of blankets. I’d already tucked four around him but the shivering didn’t stop. He reached out for my hand as I draped yet another blanket over him.

“I’m fine.”

His voice was hoarse, his breaths shallow. He was the furthest from fine as he ever was… or ever would be. I wanted to scream, kick or punch at something. Then, I wanted to sink down unto the floor and cry myself dry but I couldn’t. I would not let him see me like that.

“You look it,” I said finally. “This is a good look for you. Should have stumbled across it years ago.”

He smiled. I wished I’d never had to see him like that – face drawn, eyes hollow, lips barely able to move. Yet the only thing worse than having these images seared into my brain forever was not being here in this moment as Death stood outside the door, tying up his shoelaces as he readied himself to step inside.

Panic rose up in me like smoke. Each breath he took carried him further away from me and there was nothing I could do about it.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He tried to smile again as I caressed away the tears that fell to his cheek.  I closed my eyes and imagined us sitting on a beach watching the sun set as I rested my head against his chest. Then, I listened to the beat of his heart and felt his chest rise and fall with his breaths until they both ceased.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.alostvintagehippie.blogspot.com (check out the site!)