I am a junior in college. I just broke up with my boyfriend of three years. I've spent most of my college career focused on my relationship and our future together instead of experiencing things and growing as a person. I spent the fall semester mis...
The first unforgettable life moment that comes to mind is when my mom told me that my grandmother had passed away. She had always been a major part of my life. I spent a lot of time with her in the summers when my parents were working. She watched my until my dad came to pick me up. I mostly watched TV while Grandma did chores or did her crossword puzzle in the kitchen while listening to Frank Sinatra on her little radio that was attached to the underside of one of the cabinets. Sometimes we would play card games together, and other times we would just talk. Once I started school, I had a hard time getting along with the other kids because, well, I was a little strange as a child. I know my behavior sometimes alarmed her, but she never made me feel unloved or stupid. I could always talk to her about what was bothering me and she always made me feel better. She was a wonderful grandmother to all nine of her grandchildren, not just me. She made it to every concert, sporting event, awards ceremony, etc. Above all, she was genuinely proud of each and every one of us. That was something that many of her friends told me after she passed. "Oh, Ali, your grandmother loved you very much. She was so proud of you."
It was an October afternoon. I was in the basement with my best friend, Ruby. We were playing Spongebob Squarepants: Battle of Bikini Bottom on my GameCube. My mom had left the house, saying she had to run to Grandma's for a bit. I thought nothing of it, my mom and my grandmother were very close and did stuff together all of the time. They were best friends. It was no hike to her house either, as she lived right in town. I grew slightly suspicious when my aunt called the home phone, asking where my mom was. She rarely called in the afternoon. When my mom got back, she called me upstairs. Normally this meant I was in trouble, so as I walked up the stairs, I tried to remember if I had done something wrong lately. When we got to the kitchen, my mother said, "Ali, I have some bad news."
It still didn't cross my mind that someone had died. I had never really lost a family member before. My grandfather died when I was only a year old, so I had no recollection of that. At this point, I had no idea what to expect. The first time you truly lose someone to the inevitable death, you never forget that feeling, and you hold on to it forever. When I lost my paternal grandfather, I could feel it lurking and my parents didn't even have to say anything for me to know that he was gone. It doesn't hurt any less, but at least you're able to brace for impact.
"Grandma had an accident and she's not going to be okay."
The phone rang and she answered it. I don't remember who was on the other end. I only remember thinking that maybe Grandma was in the hospital and still holding on. We just needed to hope and pray hard for her to come back to us. When mom got off of the phone, I asked her if there was a chance for Grandma to make it.
"No, honey. She died." she said as she began to cry.
Her death was extremely unexpected. She had gone to a party the night before and all of her friends were commenting on how great she looked. She was able to live by herself without us really having to worry about her. She went to fitness classes. She was still as sharp as a tack. My cousin was getting married in two weeks. Yet, she had a heart attack. No history of heart problems. She was in her robe at the bottom of the stairs, must have just woken up to make herself some oatmeal, her breakfast of choice. She was supposed to go to brunch with her friends that day, and they obviously grew concerned when she didn't show without calling. One of her friends called my mom and said that she and my dad should go check on her. My dad came over from work. The side door was locked, which means that she hadn't even been up long enough to unlock the door to get her copy of the paper. My dad borrowed a hammer from the neighbors to break the glass window so they could unlock the door. He went in first and saw Grandma lying at the bottom of the stairs in her robe.
I can't remember the last time I saw my grandma alive (which still bothers me to this day), but I do remember how peaceful she looked in her casket at her wake. But I also will never forget the poorly covered bruise on the left side of her forehead that she got from her fall down the stairs, and it will always break my heart.
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