Page 7 of Poison Aches

She’s still as beautiful and as graceful as ever. My grandmother who runs the Westbrook Blues University Hospital’s emergency room efficiently and expertly.

She’s powerful, resilient, confident, and has always exhibited nothing but stability.

But today… she looks like she just lost half her life.

But really, she just lost her whole heart.

I clasp my hands together as tightly as I can, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from bursting into tears and stare up at a very unfamiliar woman who’s radiating an emotion I can’t quite name.

“Yes, Grammy?” I squeak. I can see that she’s been calling my name for a few seconds, but I wasn’t responding.

If there’s one thing Grammy hates, it’s rude people.

But I’m pretty sure there’s no one she hates more in this world than me right now.

Grammy looks down at me.

I expect her to finally blow up. To give me a tongue-lashing, to express her anger, her rage, and her hatred toward me…

My heart is thundering painfully as I wait, but then like before, she just sighs, looks past me to Samuel, then at me, and she waves her hand, gesturing for us to follow her.

“It’s time. Let’s go in.”

My entire body trembles so powerfully, my knees weaken.

Why isn’t she saying anything?

She can’t even look at me… she obviously can’t stand being near me, so why isn’t she saying anything?

Before I realize it, my vision is blurry.

I’m still rooted at the entrance, watching Grammy's and Samuel’s figures moving farther away into the church…where hundreds of people are gathered, dressed in black, all here to give their condolences and to send Gramps with final respects.

Final respects.

A heavy sob rises from my stomach, until it clogs my chest.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

This isn’t a dream. Gramps really is gone.

My gentle, fun, indulgent, and understanding grandfather.

The man who selflessly took care of Samuel and me, made us dinner when he was home, let us have ice cream and cake for dessert while we watched TV—all the naughty things that were forbidden on school nights by Grammy—and then he’d help us get ready for bed and tell us some bedtime stories.

Bedtime was always my favorite, only because that’s when he’d encourage my imagination, answering all mywhat-ifquestions that Samuel rolled his eyes at.

I’d go to sleep grateful for my Gramps, in awe of his brilliance and wishing I’d have his gentle smile and ability to find the humor in everything like he always did.

The more you know, the deeper the misery.

The thing about that statement is that it doesn’t just apply to secrets, but to sudden, unexpected events that steal your breath away…

But then again, causing the death of one of the only people to ever care for an abandoned, unwanted, unlovable child is a misery worse than any pain.

My first best friend, the ever-smiling, intelligent man that taught me how to ride a bike, to climb a tree when Grammy wasn’t looking and how to nurture and care for plants and flowers.

Now that person is gone, like he never existed…because of me.

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