Imperfect | est. 2015

31. Alone

The next morning, Addison was already gone.
I woke up with a note next to my lamp that said her family wanted her back by a specific time that morning. But I knew that wasn't the case.
I was glad that Addison could easily go home to her family. Weeks ago, it wouldn't be that easy for her.

I lied in bed for hours. First, I was only thinking. Without a doubt, I was trying my best not to think of the mistake I made.
But over and over, I couldn't get it out of my head.
How could I've just let a simple moment, in which I had the choice to disregard, just happen?
I would never forgive myself for that.

I set my forearm over my eyes. I didn't want to think that the sun was up and beaming while I was probably going to spend my first day of that summer alone... and without my best friend. He never called or texted. He never had anything to say after a moment like that. And he was, predictively, doing the same thing I was.

My bedroom was hot. The sun was baking through the window and all I was doing was ignoring it.

I never thought that I could spend so long doing nothing.

And for once, when I was home, nobody walked in to ask me how I was.
Neither of my grandparents. I didn't even get a goodbye from my grandpa before he left on his Sunday errands.

So, I figured if I were to stand up at least once that day, I would greet my family.
I sat up on the edge of my bed, feeling the heaviness in my head. I wasn't used to the silence of being by myself.
It felt as if my muscles were weighted down with concrete. And once I stood, it was only that much worse.
I didn't know if the feeling was guilt, or just admitting to myself that I was tired for once.

****

I walked down the quiet hallway of my house and stepped downstairs where I would look for my grandmother.
Normally she would be sitting in the little wooden chair in the corner of the living room. Normally she had her slippers up and she had her focusses on a book. And the light from the window would be beaming directly over her in the mornings. And when I'd come down for breakfast, grandpa would had pancakes on the counter-- no matter how late I woke up.
But I hadn't had a day when I could wake up and spend it with my family the entire summer.

And I was in a state of silence that I wasn't aware of.
"Grams?" I said, looking for her in the laundry room and checking to see if any of the bathroom doors were shut.
She was nowhere to be found. It would be ridiculous to think that she was still sleeping.
The latest she would ever sleep in was eleven. And it was two in the afternoon, by the time I decided to get up out of bed.

"Grams." I said again, and made my way upstairs. I waited for her to answer me from any room. Then I checked her bedroom.
She had thick velvet curtains over her window. So if she was still sleeping, the sun wouldn't wake her.
And for once, the curtains were still shut.
"Grams?" I whispered... thinking that I could still see her figure underneath the blankets on the farthest side of the bed.
I crossed the room, wondering, cluelessly, why she could still be sleeping.

The TV was even left on from who knows how long before then.
On my way to her side of the bed, I shut the TV off, and once the static noises were gone, I made my way to see her with her eyes still closed.
And I'd never seen her sleep without a snore.
"Grams?" I said, tapping her on the shoulder.

I knew that waking her up by myself was a risky thing to do. She would still not remember me. Although sometimes she did.

"Are you still asleep?" I said, setting my hand on her shoulder and trying to move her as gently as I could.
She was cold.

That's when I started connecting the dots.
My heart beat quickly escalated to a pace I could feel. And I realized how pale my grandmother's skin was.

"Grams," I said, raspy and quietly. Then I started to see if I could shake her awake, "Grams, wake up."

And then I stopped for a second.

I set the back of my hand below her chin and tried to feel if she was breathing.
I waiting, anxiously, for ten seconds... then fifteen... then twenty... and I didn't hear or feel her breathe once.

"Grams..." I whispered, finally... and then my voice trailed off.
And I felt my own heartbeat stop for a moment.

From how hot everything was just a few moments ago. And how my hands were sweating and I was considering opening every window, now I was freezing.
As if my blood was no longer pumping beneath my skin.

And it took me a second to completely realize what was happening in front of me. Right in front of me.
I had only so little left of my family, and just the last of it was lying coldly in front of me, and no longer breathing.
"Grams, please..." I shook her again and again and felt my lip quivering as I saw her hand open beside her.

And without even knowing what I was going to do next, there were already tears rolling down my face, "Please, wake up."

And then reality finally decided to hit me.

I fell to my knees and took her cold hand in mine and saw the complete motionlessness of the rest of her.

"I'm not ready," my voice was a little louder but my voice was fighting to stay understandable. It didn't matter, anyway, I was practically alone, "I'm not ready for you to leave-- I can't--..." And I let my head fall until I held onto her hand tighter.
My lungs felt like they were shriveling.
"You can't go, I need to say goodbye." I cried, latching my other hand on top of her's.
Then, throughout a long moment of trying my best to hold my breath and tell myself it wasn't real, I knew what I had to do.
I didn't want to talk, but I needed to.
I found the closest landline in the room and dialed in my grandfather's number. And as it rang over and over, I had no idea how I was supposed to tell him that the love of his life was gone.

"Skylar?" He sounded puzzled to hear my voice over the phone in the middle of the day.

And I didn't know how to answer.

"What is it? Is everything alright?"

And I shook, hoping that I could even say a word or two, "It's Grams...," I almost couldn't say more than that, "she..." And I unintentionally cut myself off.

And he knew exactly what I was trying to say.
The line cuts off completely.
And I'd predicted he would be here in minutes-- from wherever he was at that moment.

But until then.
I was left staring at what was in front of me.
And it was mortifying.

i thought about all the things she said to me the one night she had all her memory. And the night I was crying on her shoulder and asking all the questions. And she told me she was deteriorating.

"...but even after that, you'll still have a family."

And how could I possibly believe that was true when there was a nightmare sitting right in front of me?
Again, I was on my knees. I had one hand closest to her and my other arm was clasped around my stomach while I held my head down.
I couldn't be silent at that point.
I was bawling.
And I had never spent a moment like that completely alone since my brother died.
I was having too many people in my life die.
Too many moments felt like they were replaying. And I couldn't handle any of them.

And at the end of each of them. I would always remember thinking... that was it... that is the end of all the things I had left.