I
would like to thank all those who've been there for me this
past month. Losing my Gran has been the hardest thing I've
ever had to go through and I miss her so very, very much.
I am so thankful that I have a support system that never
fails. My family and I are very lucky that we have people
who love us unconditionally. On a personal note I want to
thank Carolina for always being there and for always understanding
me. You're a real Bytch.
Anna.
Joycie
She
didn’t win a Nobel Peace Prize, she didn’t write
a best selling novel or run for president, she didn’t
even get the chance to go to university, in fact she spent
most of her life struggling to make ends meet. My grandmother
led a life of struggle and sacrifice, a life that ended
on Tuesday.
It
was early on Tuesday morning when I got the call that would
turn my world upside down. I heard my mother sobbing on
the other end, jumbled words spewing from her like a torrential
downfall. I know she was speaking but I heard nothing of
what she said except that my Gran was dead. My Gran, who
never let anything slow her up or get her down, was dead.
It’s funny the things that go through your head when
faced with situations like this; I was thinking that she
couldn’t possibly be dead because she hadn’t seen
her great-granddaughter yet, she couldn’t be dead because
she still had to meet Ava. She couldn’t be dead because
it’s my birthday in two months and she had to be alive
to send me my birthday card. It didn’t even hit me
when my sister came up from her apartment four floors down
and stood in my entrance crying like her heart was breaking.
I kept thinking that Emma shouldn’t be crying because
my Gran wasn’t dead and it was all a really bad fucked
up joke. It didn’t hit me until I saw my mother. My
mother, who was born with steel in her backbone, who took
charge in situations that would terrify most ordinary human
beings, was standing in front of me and all I could think
was that she was a little girl and she had just lost her
mommy.
I
spent the entire day in a haze. My sister Amy came down
with Ava, we called my other sister Victoria in San Francisco,
and I sat and stared into space while my family broke down
in front of me. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t cry
because my head was telling my heart that it wasn’t
real and that I would wake up and she would still be alive
and well and living in England. I couldn’t cry because
if I did I knew I wouldn’t stop and my mom needed me
to be strong for her. It wasn’t until I realized that
I had let my passport expire that I broke down. I wasn’t
going to be able to say goodbye to my Gran because as usual
I had been stupid and lazy and I hadn’t taken care
of it. I kept putting it off because I thought that I wasn’t
going to need it, I mean what could I possibly need it for?
I couldn’t afford to go anywhere, and all my family
in England were alive and healthy, so there was no need
to renew it. It’s a stupid way of thinking, but that’s
how I used to live my life. I say ‘used to’ because
my life was changed for me on Tuesday and it will never
go back to the way it was.
My
sisters and I grew up with the understanding that nothing
was going to be given to us, that we would have to work
for everything that we wanted, and this work ethic was instilled
in us because my mother had it instilled in her. My mother
and Gran had a strained relationship at times but they never
let their differences get in the way of the love they had
for each other. Every morning for as long as I can remember
my mother has called my Gran and never hung up the phone
without saying ‘I love you.’ The saddest part
of this is that my mother never got to say goodbye. My Gran
hadn’t called her on Monday and died early on Tuesday
morning. It’s hard for my mother because of the guilt
she feels at not having been there, but no one knew how
sick my Gran really was because she never complained and
she detested going to the doctor. That’s just the way
she did things and the way she lived her life: Don’t
complain. Survive.
We
called her Gran but to my nephew she was always Joycie.
Whenever I asked him where Joycie lived, he would reply
‘In England with the Queen.’ It always made me
smile thinking of my Gran in Buckingham Palace having tea
with the Queen and teaching her how to tend her gardens.
She loved my nephew more than anything; she was so proud
that she could wear the title of Great Grandmother and that
she was still spry enough to enjoy him. At seventy-five
years old she was taking care of senior citizens younger
than she was, doing their shopping, driving them to town,
running their errands, and she got a kick out of saying
that she took care of old people. That’s my Gran in
a nutshell.
What
makes me angry are the placations that are being hurled
my way. I don’t want to imagine her in a better place,
I don’t want to smile because she is at peace and I
will scream if I receive another apology at her passing.
I don’t want to think of her in heaven, I want her
to be in her garden in England where she’s supposed
to be, and not stuck in a box in the ground. I want to scream
‘WHY?’ at the top of my lungs and smash everything
in sight until I’m spent and can’t cry anymore,
but I know I can’t do that. My Gran wouldn’t want
me to act like that. She would want me to act like my nephew
and take it all in stride as only kids can do.
I
stayed the week at my sister’s house and took care
of Ava and Jonah. I didn’t know it at the time but
my passport expiring was the best possible thing that could
have happened. I watched Jonah’s face light up every
time he mentioned her name. I cried when he told me that
he had stood up in front of his Bible class and asked the
kids to join him in a prayer for his Joycie, and his mom
and I both broke down when he put a stuffed rabbit that
Gran had made for him in his little sister’s crib saying
‘Now Joycie can watch over Ava too.’ It was only
when he turned to me and asked if I thought Joycie was an
angel already that I managed a smile. I can just imagine
my Gran up there ordering God around, telling him that his
gardens aren’t big enough or that his robes aren’t
white enough or that he should shave his beard because it
looks untidy. It makes me feel better to think of her this
way and not just lying in the cold ground. She can do whatever
she wants; go wherever she wants and visit whomever she
wants, and her days of sacrificing are over.
She’s
free.
And
that makes me happy.
he