I didn’t say anything on the ride to the hospice. Grandpa sat next to me, but he didn’t speak either. He just stared straight ahead, and I wondered if he was aware what was happening.
“Dad, are you okay?” my mom asked him.
“Mmm,” he said with no emotion. I saw my parents exchange a look. Maybe Grandpa was in shock. I squeezed his hand, and he nodded at me.
When we got to the hospital, my mom went in the room first. Dad took me aside.
“Em, wait with Grandpa while I go talk to the doctor. We’re worried what impact seeing your grandma will have on him right now,” he said.
Uncle George and Aunt Caroline walked over and asked why we weren’t in the room.
“Dad wants us to wait and get the all-clear from the doctor,” I said, glancing in Grandpa’s direction to let them know why without saying it out loud.
Uncle George rolled his eyes. “We are not going to coddle a grown adult,” he said, taking Grandpa’s arm.
“Wait, this could have serious—”
“Enough, Emme. He’s going in.”
I stood there shocked as my dad and the doctor walked up.
“Where’s your grandpa?” Dad asked.
“George insisted we stop coddling him.”
The doctor sighed. “Personally, I would not have subjected him to this because it could cause confusion.”
“I would have had better luck stopping a moving tank,” I said, feeling queasy.
“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Dad said as the doctor went in to talk to the family.
“It’s okay. Do you know what that weird smell in the room is?” I asked. “It was making me feel sick when I was here earlier.”
“You mean like a decay smell?”
My eyes widened, and I felt dizzy. I put my hand out and grabbed the doorframe.
“Oh, kid, sorry. Did not think that one through. Okay, let’s get you a chair.”
I sat down and took a deep breath. My head felt like it was swimming, and my chest felt tight.
Uncle George came out into the hall. “You guys coming? Hurry up,” he said, annoyed, and went back into the room without asking why I was sitting in a chair with my head almost in my lap.
“Em, you don’t have to go in,” Dad said.
“No, I need to make sure Grandpa’s okay,” I said, slowly getting up. “If I throw up though, three guesses on who I’m going to aim for.”
Dad nodded. “I wouldn’t blame you a bit. I’ll crack a window to get some air going.”
We walked in, and Grandma appeared like she was just sleeping, her mouth open. Caroline held her hand as a priest came in. Dad went to open a window and told my mom I wasn’t feeling well.
“Here, why don’t you sit down,” Mom said.
The priest came over to me.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s hard to lose someone who is special to you,” he said, squeezing my hand. “The memories will hurt at first, but later will bring you joy. And your grandmother would want you to remember them with joy.”
My eyes filled up as I nodded. I wanted to say something back, but it was like words wouldn’t come out.
He walked over to Grandma’s bedside, and he must have said a prayer or something, but I didn’t hear a word. I sat there feeling like I was watching the whole thing on TV. This didn’t seem like real life. Aunt Caroline was staring at Grandma, and her eyes were filled with tears. My mom sat with her face scrunched in sadness and pain. Grandpa reached over to the nightstand and straightened the little prayer books, her rosary, and her comb. Then he picked up her tiny comb and held it to his heart, and I lost it. I shook and cried, and my mom squeezed my arm. I saw Dad walk Grandpa out of the room.
“We can go now,” Mom said.
“Did you want to say a final good-bye?” Aunt Caroline asked.
“I just want out of this room,” I said.
I took a deep breath as soon as I walked into the hallway, and the antiseptic smell filled my lungs. The priest gave me a hug.
“My grandpa hasn’t been doing well since Grandma got sick. Please pray for him,” I said.
“Of course, I will keep all of you in my prayers,” he said.
We came home, and even the house felt different. It was like the energy had changed, and it was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator hum. I went to my room and cried.
“Em, dinner’s ready. George made peanut butter sandwiches,” my dad said. “You coming?”
I came down and ate two sandwiches because I had forgotten to eat after school today. Mom asked me if I wanted to call someone, but I said I was going to bed.
My family went to meet with a funeral director the next morning. They asked if I wanted to go with them, but I wanted to be by myself. I needed to be alone, and I didn’t feel like I could cry in front of everybody. People kept calling the house to find out about the funeral. I didn’t know anything, so I stopped answering the phone and only picked up when I saw Margaux’s name on the home phone’s caller ID. Margaux was probably the least sympathetic person I knew, but she ended up being the right person to talk to. She knew I hadn’t been to a funeral before, and she wanted me to know what to expect at the funeral home and the church service.
“Do you want me to get your homework tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”
Mom came home and asked if I had talked to Kylie and Brendon yet.
“I don’t feel like talking on the phone, but I told Margaux,” I said.
“This morning Grandpa cried while eating his cereal, but when we got to the funeral home, he kept asking why we were there,” she said.
“How was he when you told him?”
“First time, he said at least she wasn’t in pain anymore. Second time, he seemed shocked, and the third time he nodded like he just had forgotten. I don’t know, Em. Caroline wants her own doctor to evaluate him,” she said.
“Has she mentioned nursing homes?”
“No, but your uncle did. You’ll be happy to know she said Grandpa would stay with family unless there is a physical reason why we can’t take care of him. We’re going to work out the details in the days to come, but for now he’ll spend six weeks with them, and then come stay with us to give them a break.”
Grandpa came in the room then. “Emme, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, Grandpa. I’m just sad.”
“Me, too. I miss Mom,” he said.
“Yeah, we all do,” my mother said. “Why don’t we go watch a movie for a little while.”
Grandpa put his hand on my shoulder. “Want me to make you an ice cream cone like old times?” he asked.
My eyes watered as I nodded. “I’d love that.”
Glancing over at my mom, I saw she had tears in her eyes, too. Even though I knew he might be asking me where Grandma was in an hour, I was going to hold onto this moment for a while.
Chapter 24
I didn’t feel like myself when I woke up the next morning. I felt numb—like a civil war could be going on outside my bedroom window and I’d just stare and blink as it went on around me. Even though I had slept for eight hours, I had no energy. All I wanted to do was to go back to bed, and I didn’t feel like being put display or talking to people. I wanted to be alone, but I had to go to the prayer service for Grandma. Then a memory came flooding back, and I remembered I had gone to a funeral home once when I was eight years old. Maybe I repressed it, but I remembered being scared, and Grandma had taken me out into the hall and told me it was okay to cry and how sometimes she got scared at these things, too.
I hadn’t left my house in two days. Margaux had been dropping my homework off, but I hadn’t touched it. Brendon and Kylie had called, Rory had e-mailed, and Darren even stopped over, but I told my mom to tell everyone I was sleeping. I didn’t want to see my friends, and I felt gross since I hadn’t showered in two days. Mom made me wash my hair and told me to put on some makeup because I was a “little pale.” What she
meant was she didn’t want people to be frightened by my appearance since I had dark circles and my eyes were like roadmaps because I had been crying so much.
“By the way, Brendon is going to be at the service,” she said.
“Why? It’s going to be super uncomfortable.”
“He called the home phone since you weren’t picking up your cell or answering your texts. He was concerned about you, and I thought you might want someone there with you,” she said.
“Was it his idea or yours?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“He asked if you wanted him to be there, and I said it would be nice if he wanted to come,” she said. “I thought you’d be happy.”
We had just started hanging out together, and all I needed was for him to make some insensitive remark. Yeah, we could have deep conversations compared to most of the people I knew, but was he a shoulder to cry on? And let’s face it—he had never seen me when I was this down. I didn’t think he was shallow, but I wondered how he’d react if I fell apart or if Grandpa started acting confused. But then I figured if he got scared off by me being a complete mess then I didn’t need him around. I had been just fine without him once, and I could do it again.
I was transferring my stuff into my nicer bag for the funeral when Cheryl’s card fell out. Picking it up, I saw her e-mail address was on there. For some reason I felt the need to let her know my grandma had passed away, so I sent her a message. She probably wouldn’t even remember who I was.
I put on Grandma’s bracelet as I got ready. She hadn’t met Brendon, but I knew she would have liked him. Even though I would never be able to ask her, I had a feeling somehow she’d let me know what she thought of him. As I rode with my parents to the funeral home, I started to get mad at myself for worrying about what Brendon would think about everything. I shouldn’t have to worry about him. After all, this was supposed to be about Grandma and my family coming together. Not like I had seen much support. My mom spent all of her time with the caterers or the funeral director, and my cousin Ashleigh had decided not to come because she had a cheerleading competition coming up.
Aunt Caroline gave me a hug as soon as I walked into the funeral home. Most of the people walked right past me to get to my parents. Brendon wasn’t there, so I went and sat on one of the couches and watched people come in. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I pulled out my phone and saw I had a message. It was from Cheryl.
Emme-
I am sorry to hear about your loss. Keep in mind we only feel great pain because we felt great love, and few people are privileged enough to experience truly selfless love. What you did by being there for your grandmother was an amazing thing, as is your being there for your grandfather now. While some see it as a burden, realize it’s a privilege to be there and experience a purer form of love than most will ever know. I know it’s tempting at this time to shut people out and fear losing someone else, but the saying is true about it better to have loved than lost then never to have loved at all. I hope things are going well for you with your boyfriend. Keep in mind we’re all just trying our best, and people can say some stupid stuff when it comes to death, so try not to hold it against them—I only say this because I almost broke up with my boyfriend when my own grandfather passed.
You’ve got this, but if there’s anything I can do please let me know.
Take care,
Cheryl
The funeral director put on a song about losing a loved one, and I swore the song could wring tears from concrete. I felt so alone, and I realized it was because I always sat with Grandma whenever we had to go to some family thing. She used to call me her pal and say we had to stick together. Now my pal had left me.
Father Jerzy arrived, and he greeted my parents and aunt and uncle.
“Is everyone here? Should we get started?” he asked.
“Wait, where’s Grandma?” I asked, looking around. And then it hit me. Aunt Caroline stared at me with tears in her eyes.
“This will happen a lot as you get used to this,” Father Jerzy said, squeezing my hand. “I did the exact same thing when my father passed away. You feel the loss more at family events where you’re so used to seeing them.”
My eyes were blurring from tears, and I tried to nod and pretend I was okay, but I was about to lose it.
“Be gentle with yourself,” he said. “Grief doesn’t heal overnight, but one day the good memories will ease things a bit.”
Aunt Caroline and Grandpa sat on either side of me as Father Jerzy began to talk about Grandma. It was weird to hear him calling her “Franceska” because everyone called her “Frances.” Someone put on a song, and I started crying because I had played the same song for her in the hospital. Caroline passed me the tissue box, and I rubbed my eyes without thinking about my mascara. My eyes started to burn, which only made me cry harder. When the service was over, I got up and went to the restroom. I hid out in the restroom until Caroline came looking for me.
“Emme, you have to come out and greet people. It’s not polite,” she said.
I was upset, but was I supposed to put on a happy face so no one will be offended? Taking a deep breath, I came out of the stall and splashed some cold water on my face. My face was red, and my lips were puffy. My appearance reflected how I felt, but maybe people would steer clear of me, and I could be alone. I walked out of the restroom and saw Brendon standing by the front door. Part of me wanted to run and hide among my family, but I went over to him wondering if he was going to be mad I had ignored his phone calls.
“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked. “Sorry I came in late. I got here on time, but when I got to the door—I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “I guess I started thinking about my granddad, and it all kinda got to me.”
I felt a pang of jealousy he still had grandparents, but I nodded.
“Grandparents are always the ones who spoil you and think you’re perfect,” he said. Way to comfort by reminding me of all the things I was going to miss. Why not just tell me there was no Santa Claus, too?
“I used to play basketball when I was in middle school,” he said. “It was my first game, and I got confused and threw the ball into the wrong net. Everybody made fun of me, but my granddad said I had made a great three-pointer. Like he didn’t even notice I had humiliated myself in front of the whole school.”
“So sweet. You know, I used to take baton lessons, and we had this recital at the big auditorium downtown. I was super anxious and accidentally threw my baton into the balcony during a performance. So embarrassing, but Grandma said I was the best one on the stage because I didn’t even need a baton.”
“You were a baton twirler?” he said. “I’m trying to picture this.”
“Yeah, and I took Hawaiian dance lessons, too,” I said.
“Got any pictures of you in a grass skirt?” he asked.
“Gross, I was eight years old,” I said, laughing.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he asked if I thought the grass skirt might still fit. We both started laughing, and my Uncle George glanced over and gave us a funny look.
“My uncle probably thinks I’m being inappropriate.”
“If you don’t have your sense of humor, then what do you have?” he asked.
“I’m glad you came,” I said. “I would have understood if you didn’t want to come, though, because I don’t want to be here myself.”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here because you didn’t return any of my calls. I wanted to give you some space,” he said. “But then I tried to read your mind, and I figured I should come.”
I thought it was weird he said he “read my mind” because I had always found it strange when he’d know the exact moment to call, but I shrugged it off. After all, I was the one into all the New Age stuff, not him. I wanted to ask if he’d come to the funeral tomorrow since we had a half-day at school, but I didn’t want to get rejected. He probably had a committee thing and wouldn’t be able to make it.
“Hey, w
hat time is the funeral?” he asked. “Do you mind if I come?”
“It’s at noon.”
“They’re not going to play the stupid, sad song again, are they? They played that at my great-uncle’s funeral. Actually, they play it at every funeral,” he said. “It’s like the new funeral anthem.”
“I think it’ll be strictly church music,” I said.
“I’m holding you to it. I will bolt if I hear the song, but I’ll take you with me. Deal?”
“Works for me.”
“How’s your grandpa holding up?” he asked.
I bit my lip. Aunt Caroline didn’t want people to know Grandpa was dealing with dementia, so she had Uncle George sit with him at all times to field any questions Grandpa couldn’t answer.
“It’s kind of soon to tell,” I said.
“Emme, we need you,” Caroline said. “There are a lot of cousins you haven’t talked to yet.”
“Which is code for, ‘stop talking to your boyfriend and do your civic duty,’” Brendon said, winking.
Boyfriend? “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I should head out, anyway. My mom is having dinner sent to your house tonight. She remembered you don’t eat meat, though.”
“How nice of her.”
“She said people always drop off casseroles, and she couldn’t bear the idea of you trying to find something meat-free to eat during this time,” he said. “She painted a vivid picture of you sitting in front of a chicken noodle casserole and looking tragic. Jayson said he was about to go over and cook you a vegetable lasagna because of it.”
“I don’t know how you managed to make me smile twice on a day like this, but you did,” I said.
“It’s my job.”
“Thanks for coming.”
He leaned over and hugged me. “Anytime.”
Chapter 25
I woke up early on the day of the funeral, and I didn’t know what to wear, but Mom let me borrow her red cashmere sweater.
“Can I wear red to a funeral? They always show everybody in black in the movies.”
Dating the It Guy Page 21
