The Definition of Time

Chapter 13

even my bones
are starting to feel
the weight i carry
on my shoulders

May 18, 2014 (continued)

"Cancer."

The word tastes foreign on my tongue. Cancer happens to other people, different people, not me. Not my family. I lean against the solid wall behind me and close my eyes, trying to ground myself to reality. No. This can't be happening.

There is static silence on the other end of the line, and Mom doesn't say anything. What can she say to make this better? Nothing. People don't survive liver cancer. My chest feels like it's going to shatter, and I want to curl up in a ball and shut down. Turn my brain off. Go to sleep for a thousand years.

Mom starts to speak again, her voice now a whisper, "He says that it'll be okay. He's had a good life. He got to see you and Tommy grow up, and..."

Mom breaks down in tears, and I feel my shoulders start to shake. No. No. How can everything be okay one day and then the next, the world as you know it shifts out of control? 

"Did...is he going to do chemo? Radiation therapy or...or drugs? Has he seen another doctor, gotten another opinion? Are you sure there's nothing we can do? I'll do a bunch of research, and we can...fix this."

We can fix this. I know we can. The silence on the other end of the line tells me that I'm wrong, but I can't--won't--accept that. I want to rewind the last few minutes. I want to ignore her phone call. I want to forget this is happening to me.

"Rachel, honey, I...it's not over yet, but there's nothing. We can't...we can't fix this."

The sound of my mother--my strong, stubborn, impenetrable mother--breaking down throws my shoulders into convulsions. No. I fight back tears, blinking and biting my lip.

"Do you want me to come home? I can skip my last two finals, and I can be home with you guys tomorrow--"

"No, you have to finish your classes. Finish strong. Make Grandpa proud."

Those final words break the dam of emotion and it floods my soul. Gramps. Gramps is dying. 

I end the call and I melt into myself, curling into the fetal position and rocking back and forth, wracked with sobs. A kaleidoscope of memories flashes before my closed eyes. Pictures of Grandpa taking me on my first tractor ride on my first birthday. He always wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap; he was a farmer, and he would be until...no. I remember him taking me to my first Major League Baseball game to see the Pirates. I sat on his lap, and he bought me three hot dogs and a bag of popcorn and didn't get annoyed when I fell asleep after the fourth inning. I remember how he'd always call me "pipsqueak" because I was tiny as a kid. I remember his hugs and how he'd tickle me until I was afraid I'd pee myself.

I think about the last time I talked to him, and I realize it's been months. He called me on my birthday, but I was busy with Jordan and didn't even answer the phone. I didn't even answer the phone. I called back later and talked to him for a few minutes while walking to class, hearing him drain on about the weather and how the ground was still frozen. All I said at the end of our conversation was, "okay, Gramps, I gotta go. Bye!"

I didn't even say "I love you". I hadn't even told him I loved him.

He's not dead. Yet.

He's still alive, and I need to tell him. He needs to know that I love him before he dies.

No. No. He can't die...he can't.

I don't even realize that I'm sobbing until Jordan finds me in the hallway and wraps me in a hug. I cling to her and sob into her shoulder. Her arms fold around me and hold me against her tenaciously as if she's protecting me from the world.

"Shh, Rach, it's going to be okay," she whispers, rubbing my back.

No, no, it's not.

May 19, 2014

The phone rings, and I bite my lip, silently praying for him to answer. It's been less than 24 hours since my world crashed down and forced me to imagine life without Gramps. He's dying. He's dying.

"Hello?" His voice sounds like a bucket of rusty nails.

"Gramps?" I chew on my lip harder, drawing blood and trying not to cry. "It's me, Rachel."

"Rachy, it's so good to hear your sweet voice. How's school?" 

I breathe in shakily and feel a tear forming in my eyes, "it's...it's good, Gramps. How are you feeling?"

There's a pause and then a sigh, "so your mom told you, huh?"

Another staggering breath. Another unwanted bout of tears. Another wave of realization.

"She told me."

"Don't worry, Pipsqueak, it's gonna be fine. Don't you worry about me, okay?"

His voice is soft, and I can almost see the browned wrinkles of his face. Memories return of him kissing my cheek and trying to tickle my neck with his whiskers. I hear my squeals as I ran away and then returned a few minutes later to leap back into his lap. 

"I...I can't help it, Gramps. I'm worried."

He chuckles a little, "Why don't you leave the worrying to your mom and grandma? They do enough worrying for the both of us. I haven't had a good meal of bacon and eggs ever since we got the diagnosis, just protein oatmeal. Blech."

I laugh a little, but it comes out as a smothered squeak. He sounds okay. Why is he okay? How is he okay? The tears are tracing my cheeks now, and I fiercely wipe them away with my free hand. 

When I speak again, I can almost hear my own tears, "How are you okay right now, Gramps? I'm falling apart."

"Aw, Rachy, don't fall apart on me. You gotta be strong for your grandma and Mom and Tommy, right? You were always my big strong girl." His voice is warm and sounds like strong coffee on a snowed-in morning. 

He's dying, but he's more worried about me than himself. That's my Gramps. 

"I want to come see you as soon as I get home, okay? We can go to breakfast, and I'll buy you all the bacon and eggs you want," I say through tears. 

Snot is dripping from my nose, and my shoulders are shaking as I struggle to control myself. He's going to be fine. How long can I keep lying to myself?

"That sounds perfect, Rachy. Now you get back to studying, y'hear? I want to hear all about that cockamamie you're learning at school when you come home for the summer. You better have learned a lot."

"Okay, Gramps."

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon, Rachy."

"Gramps?" I pause and inhale deeply, "I love you."

"I love you too, Rachy."

When he hangs up, all I can do is ask myself how many more times I will hear those words before he's gone. 

~~~~~

I lost my grandfather to cancer about ten years ago, so this brought back that difficult season in my life. This chapter definitely wasn't easy to write. 

As always, thanks for reading. Please comment, vote, and stay tuned for more!