Last (40)

Granny the Great

6. Granny the Great

Mathematics has been my problems since I stepped into the market place of knowledge called school. The best way where to learn according to Jean Piaget in his cognitive theory in development is in school. But I was forbidden to learn more; instead I was enrolled in Dick Rehab Center. Learning ba-sick techniques and taking easy tests if we are capable to think well. Of course I answered them clumsily. I didn’t want to go home, I didn’t want to answer math and how I wish that subject will grow old so he can solve his own problem and never bother the young minds of the students again.

“Hey you!” Patient Z called me. She was the worst of all patients; no wonder I named her Z the last and the least.

“Me?” I said pointing myself, as I looked at my back if there was another patient.

“Yes, you. Look at me.”

I looked at her.

Silence. I gulped, expecting something.

“Why are you looking at me?” she spat, seeing her saliva formed at the side of her lips.

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

She’s really crazy.

I proceed myself to the recreational area and met again the old woman who was facing at the tall white wall. She was still praying. Findings: even ghosts, I couldn’t understand. Thus, dead people can be crazy too.

“Hey Granny,” I said. She was my Granny the Great because she shared so many things to me---great things.

“Hello there my child.”

“Er. I got a question for you,” I said and sat beside her under the heat of the sun, “do you know about deadlines?

“What do you mean?” she said as she smiled to me.

“Like when you die, do you have deadlines? Like, I don’t know how to explain this thing. Er. I really can’t explain.”

“To rest is to rust,” she whispered, referring to me.

I waited for her words as she frowned, thinking of something that I couldn’t explain.

“Ah, do you mean that how many days before we left this Earth and go to the destined place?”

“Yes, yes. That’s what I mean Granny. Tommy, which is my younger brother, vanished after several days. So as the other ghosts I met for several years now.”

She gave me a smile, like a smart-ass, like my neighbor criticizes my stories as if they know how to construct sentences and paragraphs. They don’t even know what is denouement. They thought it was a doughnut with a chocolate frosting inside.

“Forty days. We had our limitations,” she said, as if it was a power given by someone, “souls stayed in the world for forty days to see their families, to check if they cried in the funeral and burial day, to visit the places they love for the last forty days. Just like Jesus Christ who resurrected for forty days and be with his apostles. You can see me, and I am glad to talk with you. I want you to talk to my granddaughter if you decided to leave this place. It’s been seven years, as what you said. You’re not crazy. You’re just talented and gifted teenager.”

I kept my mouth shut, looking at her fingers as she played those rosary beads.

“Be normal, act like a normal person. Leave this place and forget that you can see ghosts.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I love talking with ghosts. I’m like the woman from Ghost Whisperer. I’m like Jennifer Love-Hewitt.”

She laughed.

“You’re funny and outspoken, just like my granddaughter. I missed her, I want to be with her even just a day. I love her so much.”

“I’ll think about it Granny.”

The bad thing about talking to Granny is that she talked about many things. Forty days to Jesus Christ, requesting me to be normal even though I was normal and now her granddaughter whom she loved the most. She might talk about politics soon, maybe genetics or about UFOs.

“Don’t just leave your plans on your mind, do it. Act it. If I got a chance to live again, even just a day, I’ll do the things I love, a cup of coffee in the morning, reading the newspaper and prayed for the people who are in danger especially the dead people who died on nine-eleven attack. I’ll spend it with my granddaughter; I’ll bring her to McDonalds and be with her until the evening. We will talk until I’ll get tied and I’ll leave her with a tight hug and a kiss on her forehead, saying ‘good night, and I’ll miss you’ and that’s it.”

She smiled, as she brought me to tears. Granny the Great, she was my heroine; she should be in the History books. I should include her in my story.

She vanished after we talked about her past life, when she was still living. She told me that she had a wonderful hair and teeth, and she had a great affair with a man in the middle of World War II (she should be in history books!) In. the middle of gunshots and explosives there she was, fearless and sacrificed a lot. She put her heart into jeopardy, letting her lover join the war without any expectations of happily ever after. But still, on that dark night, after weeks of prayer (I know that’s too much exaggeration, I couldn’t even pray longer than one minute!) his lover came, safe and without a bruise. I wondered why old people shared wisdoms and past stories with a moral lesson on it.

I went back to my room, grabbed my notebook and wrote what I thought and plans to be a true-normal-person. Granny the Great, this is for you:

Dear Journal,

I am torn between two decisions: to go home or to stay in Dick. To stay and be with my friends until death and have forty days or go home and face the real world? I am now 18. Legal. Freedom is at hand. But I am unlearned, learned. I am inexperienced, and experienced and I am hopeful but hopeless.

Granny the Great may be right. I should forget being talented and gifted. I should see Chip again, I want to see Ed too. Help me God. Our Father in Heaven, holy be your name your Kingdom come thy will be done. Your will be done…

Love,

Meg

“What are you looking at me?” Patient Z said as I approached my three friends and let them gathered during lunch time. Patient Y was there biting his lower lip as he gazed Nurse One. Patient X stared at me, as she holds the opened Bible. She was reading the life of Prophet Elijah, which she claimed as her uncle. I took a deep breathe.

“I have to tell you something,” I said.

What is it?” Patient X said.

“I don’t know how to say this. This is difficult.”

“I SAID, WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME?” Patient Z bellowed.

“I’m going home.”

“What?” Patient Y said.

“I’ll take Doctor Jacobs’ tests. I’ll make it perfect.”

“You’re really in high, sweetie,” he told me and stood, “I gotta go. She’s giving me a signal.”

“Ya should not leave us Meg.”

“It’s my decision, I’m so sorry.”

“If that’s your choice, I’ll support ya. As God’s daughter, I’ll bless ya. I’ll give ya grace and power.”

I nodded.

Patient Z looked at me and said, “What are you looking at me?” Then she cried, as I bowed my head to receive my friend’s blessing.