Not-an-ode to you…

…my dear grandma

For the first time, in what I think is more than two years, I visited my grandma. I have many reasons for why I haven't visited her, but none of those reasons, I think, would hold well with others. I will admit that they were purely selfish and purely out of guilt.

Before going any further, I should add that she, my grandma, is not alive. She currently resides, and will reside through space and time, in a plot in a cemetery under the shade of a tree.

I know fully well why I have not visited her for more than two years, I think. It's mixed with gut-wretching guilt and tear-filled thoughts about the family she wishes were together. Her family, her sons and daughters, are not on the best of terms, and me, well, I'm currently in the middle of the drama.

I remember that last night I had with her, the last interaction she had with anyone from her family, with great vividness. The stench of sterilisation in that cream coloured room was suffocating. Yet I was still there, because someone should have been. And I wanted some alone time with the first grandparent I felt I had a connection to. I was sitting there by her bedside, as she was in a coma, talking to her about the television shows she used to watch  and what was happening. I told her about what she would like about the new characters. I told her: "But don't worry, you'll be able to watch it when you wake up. Right? Promise that you'll wake up?"

It was the last thing I said to her before departing the hospital way too late in the night; besides "I love you". 

Two hours later, she passed away.

And it has only come to my recent attention that I might have been the last person she heard, I gave her those last words, and she chose not to wake up like I asked. I felt downright guilty. I know it wasn't my fault, I know that it's not, but I can't help these thoughts. So two weeks ago, I decided that I should visit her. Alone.

Only today did I manage to visit. I bought her white lilies and placed them on her grave. I stood there saying sorry for all the things I should have said and done to heal the bridge between her family. I said sorry for not trying harder when trying to convince her to stay awake. I said sorry and I asked why. 

I feel different, for sure. 

This a not-an ode to you, dear grandma, to say I'm sorry and that I will always, always, love you.