Between the line of Fear and Blame...

I remember sitting in my office at work, my head hung down and propped in my hands. I had just come off “Grandma Watch” as my cousin Elspeth had just gotten in the night before with her son. My eyes were swollen from crying, my body ached from the lack of sleep and my head pounded with the replay of our last argument.

When my grandmother fell ill and my aunt needed to return home to take care of things I was assigned the task of staying the night and helping her with things when I was off work and during the day various of our relatives would come stay with her.

It was always important to my grandma that I did work and that I never took time off. She often scolded me when she got wind of a day or time off that I took when it was not necessary in her book. Which meant everything. Nothing was necessary to her. Doctor’s appointments should be scheduled before or after work, or during lunch.

I remember our last fight being about my inability to cope with her situation. I read about others ability to cope and deal with being a nurse to their dying family and I hang my head in shame. I told her I couldn’t deal with it. I told her that it was hurting me so bad to see her the way she was. She was scared enough and I told her I couldn’t handle it. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate, she yelled violently at me, as she was known to do. She let her words whip out in anger and they cut sharp into the core of my being. Her venom sunk in as I cried. I cried for her, I cried to a god I didn’t believe in and I begged for her to get better.

That would be the last lucid moment I would have with her before delirium took its toll. And so I sat the following morning after this fight, breathing, thinking and trying to recoil myself from the past nights. I needed to get away; I needed to take a deep breath away from this tragedy that I was facing.

I picked up my phone and sent a text to my roommate.

“Lets go to CA tonight” and I pressed send.

I started my day’s work burying my emotions into printing, labeling and mailing documents that needed to be sent. In the last few weeks of my grandmother’s life I spent much of my time at work alone, away from everyone, which was strange in that I was the social butterfly of the office. Throughout that Friday I sent texts back and forth between my three friends Michelle (The Roommate), Nora, and Kat; mapping out the plan of driving San Diego, getting a hotel room and spending the day at the beach then returning that following night.

What I thought was just wishful thinking turned out to be something I truly needed. Hyundai Accent packed we grabbed our cameras, one ken doll, some clothes, drinks and stuffed our four bodies into the two door egg and began our trip. The night was cool and the car was soon filled with the scent of cigarettes and laughter. With Michelle and I taking turns on driving and Nora and Kat fading in and out of sleep for most of the ride. Well, mostly Nora slept; Kat did her best to be part of the crazy antics. The car ride included many energy drinks, a few packs of cigarettes (on my friends part), a few games of “Car flirting” and a couple guys flashed but most of all it included lots a laughter.

We wouldn’t get into California until a little after 3 AM and daylight was approaching fast so we settled on a Super 8 right off Interstate 8 on the hotel circle a few miles from beach. I remember sneaking Kat and Nora in the hotel room because we didn’t want to pay the extra for the two other people and staking claim on the half of the one queen bed before giggling off to sleep.

That trip we did exactly as we had planned. We spent the day at the beach getting burned and enjoying the cool Pacific Ocean. Laughed as waves knocked us over into each other, one specific time when my 5’3 friend came colliding face first into my boobs and the other face first into my butt because of a strong wave that knocked us all off our feet. I remember laughing so hard I had to walk to shore and sit on the surf because I couldn’t keep standing.

I look back and think about sitting on the beach snapping pictures of Ken on the beach, and watching seagulls swoop down and nabbing bits of Jalepeno Cheddar Cheetos or more specifically the seagull that had Nora shouting “Oh my god he took the fucking cup!” As one gracefully swooped down and grabbed an entire Styrofoam cup and flew off. And then we both threw ourselves back on our towls in laughter tears streaming from our eyes.
The day on the beach ended with a trip to Horton Plaza, a mall in downtown San Diego where I met up with a friend in California and allowed him to tear into me as no one has ever had with jokes. We laughed, joked, jabbed at each other and he starred at me like no other guy has before in my life. He saw through my tired hazel eyes and then did what any normal sarcastic individual such as myself would do. He tore into me like it was a Comedy Central Roast of Jennie, and I was still laughing.

Looking back I know I should have been spending every waking moment with my grandma and if I had known that the weekend before Easter would be her last weekend Alive I would have. But also looking back I realized that weekend with my friends on the beach saved me from myself. It saved me from falling into my own self-doubt; it saved me from crawling into a dark tunnel and lying there until everything blew over which as it is, still hasn’t.

My godmother Peggy said this to me Christmas Eve; “It seems like its only getting worse with time, its not getting better.” And I agreed.
Losing my grandma almost 2 years ago and I still can’t bring myself to erase her numbers from my phone. I still take a deep breath when I manage to scroll past her name. I still reach for the phone when I want to know what I’m supposed to turn the oven to when I need to make speedy fruit pie (aka peach cobber.) When I made green Jello over Thanksgiving at Kathleen’s house I looked for her body to be next to me on a stool asking me for some type o seasoning. I still drive past her house when I’m in town.
She was more than my grandmother, she was the person who tried with all her abilities to make sure my siblings and I had somewhat of a normal life. She saved my family from a life on the streets. She came from the school of “tough love.” And I have her to thank for my “spiky-ness”, my dry sense of humor and unfortunately, my nose. She gave me the gift of life so many times over.

But I know that without Nora, Kat & Michelle and our escape to California when I returned early Easter Morning and she was gone the next day, I know that weekend would have been more than I could bear. And so, I don’t regret taking off, I don’t regret the escape. I just wish I could have been a stronger person for Jean, for my grandmother in her last week of life.