Hear My Truth

Chapter Four

Adjective: Unlovable; not lovable.

      The worst part about living is thinking, and the worst part of thinking is remembering, and the worst part of remembering is pain, and the worst part of pain is the sadness. Sometimes, you can't prepare for the worst even if you try.  It doesn't even reduce the pain. I think that even the toughest people, can't experience (mental) pain without flinching. It feels like life is going to end and it just feels absolutely shitty. 

     I remember when it all started to just go downhill. My grandma taught me what a piano is. the first time I saw one was at her house. She was like a prodigy. Not a real one, but she could jut play happy birthday, and not just the basic, one handed happy birthday, but a totally pop sounding happy birthday. She was so amazing. She was so beautiful when she was younger and as she got older. She was so fragile and she was so sweet. She passed away in February of 2017. When my mom told me, I just came home from piano lessons. I put my head on the table and just sobbed, wailing out Why did you have to leave now? Why now? I was broken. I was just lost.

      The night before she left, she called my dad because she wasn't feeling good. Looking back at it, I think she knew what was coming. She asked my mom what to do because my mom is a nurse. My mom comforted her. I got to talk to her one last time, as did my sister. She kept telling me she loved me, which was unusual because she said it at the end of a conversation. She just kept saying I love you. At least I got to say good bye over the phone.

      The day died, her caregiver found her unresponsive on the couch. She called 9-1-1. The ambulance came. My dad drove to Chicago to the hospital. He held her hand. She didn't wake up. He drove to her condo to get cloths for her and hygiene products. He got a call while he was getting the supplies. It was my grandmas caregiver. She told my dad that she had passed away. My dad said he sat on the couch and cried. Honestly, I think my grandma waited to take her last breath when my dad wasn't there to see it. When he left, she knew she could go. It would've been hard for my dad to see that. But, he got to say good bye for the last time in person.

      A couple weeks later, we went to her funeral. She was my dads mother. I have only seen my dad sob three times. Once when he was begging me to not commit suicide. Then, when he we were in family therapy and he was telling me how hard it is to see is youngest daughter suffer. Finally, at my grandmas (his moms) funeral. I gave a speech at her funeral. I got through t, but half way through, I couldn't hold in the tears that were building up in my eyes. I got choked up and concluded my speech and abruptly went to sit with my family and just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was an open casket funeral and I saw her lifeless body. Her beautiful face. Her pears around her neck in in her ears. Her lips that would never tell me I love you, or I am so proud of you, ever again. Her eyes that would never open and get the sparkle they do when she was happy. Her body that would never have blood running through it every again. Her heart that would never love again. At least she would be with the husband she loved for over fifty years and who she missed so much again.

     Since then, she's always been on my mind and I feel her presence when I play the piano, or when I relive our priceless memories. I always wonder if she's proud of me. I wonder if she is disappointed in me for all the harmful actions I have made. I wonder if she misses me. I wonder if she is protecting me. I just wonder if shes out of pain. I hope she didn't go in pain. But, after she died, I slid down hill. It was the last straw and my pain just built up and I couldn't take it anymore. I will always miss her so much. 

Rest In Peace Grandma. July 25 1935 - February 2017