Gram

         It’s amazing how you can view something so completely different while at two separate points in your life. Maybe you remember a movie that was a childhood favorite, but as an adult it just doesn't have anywhere near the same appeal. Or, maybe you made a decision as a child that you would have never made as an adult. It is a phenomenon because you are viewing the exact same object and/or experience as the same person with the exact same eyes, only the mind has changed. As we age, our perspectives and values changes as a result of our experiences. Although we are still the same person, the way in which we see things often changes.        

            For some reason, I often remember an example of this type of change in perspectives from an event that occurred when I was 13 years-old. It was Halloween day and I had recently gotten off the phone with my friend Shane. We had made plans to go trick-or-treating together over on his side of town, in the upper-class homes neighborhoods. During our conversation, we had mapped out a timeline of exactly when and where we would be going. Our plan was to maximize our candy intake by visiting the best homes in a close proximity, in as little as time possible.

            My costume was nothing special. All I had was a wig and a flimsy Halloween easel containing some different color face paints. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to “be”, I just planned to look silly. So, I had went to the mirror and used all of the different colors on my face and put the wig on. I looked ridiculous. As soon as I showed my mom, she immediately said; “you gotta go downstairs and show gram”!

           For my whole childhood, my grandmother had always lived just below us. Our house had a basement apartment in it. Although my grandmother actually owned the house, she let my mom have the upstairs because she had children and needed the extra space.

            Anyways, as soon as I walked into her apartment she began to laugh. She always had the cutest laugh, especially when she would get really excited about something.

“What are ya a Jester”, she said?

“What’s a Jester”, I responded.

“Like a clown, a Jester”, she said.

“I dunno, I was just trying to pain my face up and look funny” I replied.

“Well, you look like a Jester”, she said again.

         Then, she went on to tell me how she was on her way over to the church. She said that I should go with her and how she was sure that the others would get a kick out of my costume. She said that there would be a lot of kids my age there and that they were having refreshments and handing out candy.

            I knew that there was no possible way in the world I was going to go to church on Halloween. Like I had said, my friend and I had a great plan in place. Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays and we had been planning it for some time. I kind of laughed off her invitation and told her “sorry”. I had been to church with her a bunch of times in the past and it was almost always pretty boring.     
            At the time, the thought of going to church with her on Halloween sounded like such a ridiculous idea to me. Never for a second did I even consider actually going with her. I went and met up with Shane and we made a killing in the candy business that night.

            At the beginning of this story I mentioned how we can perceive things so incredibly differently at different points in our lives. At the time, nothing in the world could have made me go with my grandmother to church on that night instead of going trick-or-treating with my friends. But looking at it now, there is nothing in the world that could make me happier than to be able go to church with her. It turned out that she was right that night, I was a Jester…I was a clown.

            If I were to attempt to describe my grandmother to someone who had never met her before, the task would be very difficult. The magnitude of her selflessness alone would make it impossible; the words simply do not exist. Besides, she would not want me to anyways. You see, she was always an extremely humble angel. But for the sake of my story, it could never be complete without trying.

            “The true measure of a man can be found in how they treat those people who can do them absolutely no good”. I’m not sure to whom this quote belongs, but my grandmother exemplified the truth in it. She was always very kind to strangers because it was in her nature. Helping people was simply what she lived to do. People would sometimes try to compensate her for her generosity, but she would never allow it, not in a million years. She didn’t have much, but what she did have there was certainly a lot of. She had a strong desire to help people at any chance she got. Her reason for living this type of lifestyle was that she always held her bible close to her. The lord was her savior, and I am certain that if he were to allow anybody into his kingdom, it would be her.

            My grandmother was a magician with her sewing machine. Even though a name brand version of blue jeans held no importance to her, she would create them for us. It was simple; she would just cut the expensive brand name patches off of an old pair, and sew them onto a new, much cheaper pair. When summer would arrive, she would then turn that pair of jeans into shorts.

            I remember several times when she would wash our clothes. During laundry she would find jeans with holes in them. A few days later when we would pull them out of a drawer, they would have large patches sewed into them. She could never understand how it was in-style to have holes in your pants. It was impossible to get mad at her for 'ruining' your clothes since she had done it only with the best intentions. The era that she was from, a man with holes in his pants was a sign of poverty.

            One Christmas when I was a child, the big ticket item on a lot of kid’s lists was Pound Puppies. It was a stuffed animal puppy with a heart shaped insignia of its hind leg. She sewed a whole bunch of them from scratch that Christmas and gave them away. She had worked tirelessly for months at her sewing machine. And in the end, it was almost impossible to tell the difference between her creation and the expensive store bought ones.

            My grandmother was always extremely thrifty and clever in her ways. She never had much money, but it never bothered her one bit. Her coupon-cutting always equated into a full cupboard, even if she had to walk a few extra miles to a different supermarket. Somehow it always seemed like she lived in abundance. Her refrigerator always had ice cold kool-aid, and her cookie jar was always full for us kids.

            Our family was always just barely squeaking by to make ends meet. But as children we never felt like it at all. We always felt like we had whatever we needed, and that was because of her. Anything that my family needed, or whenever we had a problem, she always had a solution. She could always fix whatever problem we had. I remember one time when she had somehow bought my brother a car. Whether it was a big problem or a small problem, she was always just a floor tap away. You see, we shared a phone line with her. So if we needed to ask her a question, we would stomp on the floor and wait for her to pick up the phone. And when she needed to talk to us, she would bang on a pipe. Those were our “cues” to pick up the telephone. I can recall about a hundred times when I would bang on the floor and ask Gram to make me a sandwich, or a bagel. The response was always the exact same; "Come down in 5 minutes".

            When we were little, my brother Ian and I would fight over who got to sleep downstairs with Gram. Whenever I would stay down stairs with her we would watch “Wheel of Fortune” and “Jeopardy” together. She would always make popcorn and let me sleep in her bed with her. I always felt really safe and comfortable with her, she just gave off that aura. Being around her was the "cure-all" for me as a child. And having her around and in our lives was simply invaluable.

            My mom and step-dad often worked weird hours and often stayed out late. So she was the one who looked after my brothers and I. She was the one who looked after everybody. She would do laundry, cook, clean, and whatever else had been neglected around the house that day. She was the glue to our family and I never realized it. I was just too young to interpret her greatness.  I didn’t realize the importance of her kindness and what she really meant to us. Sometimes when she would get frustrated with us she would tell us; “Ya know, I’m not always going to be around. You guys are going to have to learn how to do for yourselves”. But in our youthful ignorance, we always just shook it off. In our naïve minds she would always be around.

            She was in her 80’s but she was in excellent shape. Her grocery shopping would take her all over town to get the “deals”. She never owned a vechicle so she would get quite a bit of exercise on a regular basis. I remember seeing her all over the place pushing her little cart or carrying bags. When I would be out on my bicycle and see her out, I would take some of the heavy items and ride them home for her. She was more than capable of doing it on her own, but it always made me feel good to help. My grandmother never had any health conditions except asthma, even as she aged. Her only medication (that I recall) was her inhaler. They were always raising the price of her refills too, so she would try to make them last longer.

            It wasn’t just her physical health that was surprisingly great, her mental health was always outstanding as well. Sometimes when people age their mind begins to deteriorate. They forget things or they do something silly here or there. But, that was never the case with her. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she lived to be 120 years old the way she was going. With her as my role model, I thought life was going to be a breeze. But the truth of the matter was that she just made it look that way. She was a genius in so many ways, she just had life figured out a long time ago. 

            One time she was walking home from the senior citizen center and she got mugged. Some man had ran by her and stolen her purse and knocked her down. She ended up being pretty banged up from that ordeal, but I don’t think she even went to the hospital. They never caught the guy either, but she forgave the man immediately. That was just the way she was. I remember my brother being so angry about the incident and promising revenge, but she wouldn't have any of that. We were pretty shook up after it happened, but she calmed us all down and said she would be fine. It seemed like such a short time after, she was all better again. She never let it bother her and she quickly returned to her old ways.
          Here is a woman who would literally do anything for anybody, and she gets mugged? The coward only got away with about $2 that she had in her purse, but the burden from the incident was one that was hard for my family to shake. It bothered us so much more than it ever bothered her. I'm willing to bet that she was probably angry about what happened to her for about 5 minutes after it actually happened. But like I said, that is just the type of woman she was. Her personality and kindness is impossible to generate into proper comprehension because there are few to compare her to. There are certainly none whom I have ever encountered, and I would be surprised if that ever changes.

            When I was 15, I had come home one day and nobody was there. My mom arrived a little while later and said that they were at the hospital with Gram. I had no idea why since her health had never been an issue. In fact, I had just seen her walking on Main St. earlier in the day, so I just assumed it had to be something minor. My mom said that she had went downstairs earlier and that my Gram was acting really weird. She said that she seemed really confused and really bizarre, so they had taken her to the hospital. She said that they released her and that my step-dad was bringing her into the house. As soon as they walked in the door I realized that something was very, very wrong.

            My step-dad was helping her walk and he set her down on the couch. She had a very confused and wide-eyed expression on her face. This was completely out of the ordinary for her. Like I had said, she was always completely normal. I began to talk to her; “Hey gram, whats wrong”? She kind of looked around for a moment before she looked over at me. I could tell that she was very spaced out. I said; “Gram, I just seen you earlier on Main St. walking and you were fine. What happened to you”? Finally she looked in my direction and responded; “I don’t know. I was probably going to the drug store”. Her facial expression and demeanor were completely out of the ordinary. I could tell that she really had no clue what was going on. The tears began to flood down my cheeks. If she was this sick then why the hell would they discharge her from the hospital?

            This sight was too much for me to handle, the tears just kept flowing. I didn’t know what to do so I went outside and just ran. I ran all the way to the park and played basketball with some friends. I was trying to get my mind off of what I had just seen and hoping it would all go away. I was hoping that it was just some terrible nightmare that I would soon awake from.

            When I went back home a while later nobody was there. I walked into the dining room and seen a note on the table: “Come to the hospital, Gram got worse”. My heart began to race as I walked back into the living room feeling woozy. I seen the answering machine light blinking. Usually it would have a digital number on it to indicate how many messages were waiting. But when there were more than 9 messages it would just blink. I hit play and heard my brother Daves voice in hysterics; “Will somebody please call me! What is going on, please”! I could hear the tears in his voice and I knew that things must be very bad. He continued; "Why will nobody answer the phone? Please"! The message ended and went onto the next. It was Dave again with more pleading for a return call. He was away at college and I could tell he was a mess. I thought about calling him back, but I didn't have any answers for him.

            I ran out of the house, over to the hospital and right into the emergency room. As soon as I went into her room I seen a doctor performing compressions on my Grams chest. This is when I completely lost it and the whole world began spinning. I was crying but I couldn’t breath at the same time. I ran out of the hospital and dropped to my knees in the ambulance bay screaming at god and cursing him. I simply could. Not. Breathe.

            My step-dad came out a moment later and said; “Hey man, are you ok”? I was at a loss for words and kept trying to catch my breath. Am I ok, really? “No”, I said. “I am not OK at all". I was still trying to catch my breath, but it kept getting more difficult. The tears just continued as I sat there on my knees and started punching the concrete. My step-dad tried to console me but I just got up and left. Everything around me looked different, everything looked like shit. I remember seeing strangers with smiles on their faces walking down the street and wondering how? How in the world could anybody in the world be happy right now?

            The next thing I remember, I left the hospital and started walking home. I was so upset that I just wanted to fight somebody, anybody. Anybody who would look at me I would immediately curse at them. This was the worse part of the worst day of my life.

            We would later find out that she had a stroke earlier in the day and possibly a few more later on. They kept her on life support for a week or so and then just let her go. I have always wondered that if they didn’t discharge her after her preliminary visit to the ER if things could have ended differently.

            Anyways, as the days, months, and years have passed since, the grieving process slowly got easier. But what has never gotten any easier is life. Life is a pain in the ass. When she was just a floor tap away, life was easy. When life would kick me in the ass, I could always run into her arms for help. She was the rock that my family could always depend on, and went she went down, so did the ship.

            When my grandmother passed away, everything and everybody changed. A lot of the smart decisions we made in our lives were because we wanted her to be proud of us. So when she wasn't there, people stopped making sacrifices for the family. When she died, everything got worse, a lot worse. 
         But, looking back in all honesty, we didn't deserve her, we never did. She was like the one "good" thing that our family had. She was the wild card. She was the sun and she was the light. And none of us ever appreciated her for what she was. Unfortunately, I was too young and far too foolish at the time to understand just what I had. If you were to witness a miracle every single day, would they still exist?
           If someone were to live a full life being wealthy every day of it, they could never appreciate it as much as someone who was once poor. However, if this is true then it must work both ways. It is only once you experience the greatness of somebody that you can recognize the magnitude of the void that exists without them. In this case, the void that was left in our lives was insurmountable. It is one that can never be filled. "You don't know what you got until its gone."
          This story was difficult to write at times because of how much I miss my Gram. If you have somebody in your life whom reminds you of my Gram, then give them a call, right now. Give them a call for no reason at all and tell them how much they mean to you. Tell them how much you love and appreciate them. And then reminisce with them about some happy memories and the joy that they have brought you. You never know when that opportunity will no longer exist. So go tell that special person just how special they are.....do it for my Gram.