The Last Time I Saw Grandma John

The last time I saw my grandma was over a year ago, right before I moved out of Iowa and moved down to Wichita, KS. It was right before Christmas and she was supposed to spend the holiday with us, but something happened and she wanted to go back to her home in Illinois to spend Christmas with her sister. Over a year ago, before Christmas, my dad told my grandma he no longer wanted her to drive to our house by herself. Every time she came or left, she got lost, one time getting so lost she ended up driving over an hour in the wrong direction. For Christmas, Kevin had picked her up and intended to take her back home after Christmas, so her wanting to return home early sent us on an unexpected road trip.

At that time, her memory had already started slipping quite a bit. She said and did funny things sometimes, like signing her name "John Hancock" when someone asked for her "John Hancock" or when we found spray cheese in her pillow where she'd swore she kept her medicine. Her lapses in memory were telling of what was to come for our family, but for that time they were innocent and humorous lapses in judgment that were good for a smile.

I just came along for the ride to Illinois that day because I was trying to soak up all the time with my dad that I could before moving away. I sat in the backseat with headphones in my ears and a book in my lap. Dad and Grandma had the tendency to talk while they were in the car together and I didn't much care for it, especially since they often ended up getting into small arguments about things that weren't really important and sitting in silence.

Halfway through the drive, Kevin taps on my knee so I'd pull the headphones out of my ears.

"Hey, can you drive the rest of the way? My head is killing me," he said.

I told him I would drive as long as I could play my music through the speakers and he agreed, but I knew I would only be able to play the censored music on my playlist because of Grandma.

Dad pulled into a gas station and we switched seats. He borrowed my headphones and watched "Bob's Burgers" on his phone while laying down in the backseat and I connected my phone to his bluetooth.

I admittedly didn't know what to talk to my Grandma about. I felt like she wasn't really sure about who I was anymore, not because she couldn't remember but because I felt like I'd been changing a lot. I didn't see my Grandma often and every time I saw her I felt like I was a completely different person than the last time. I wasn't sure what I could say, I was afraid I would say the wrong thing and tick her off in some way. I didn't want to make her mad at me, especially since I knew she felt bad about making us drive her all the way back to Illinois.

"I wish you could have stayed to meet Jacob. I think you'd like him," I said, trying to start a conversation with her. She was supposed to meet Jacob for the first time over Christmas, but she hadn't stayed long enough to actually meet him. She looked off into the oranging sky, then at me.

"Well, he must be special if you're going to be moving so far away to be with him," she said with her sincerest voice, even though I knew she didn't approve of it one bit.

Then we really started talking. I told her about how kind Jacob was to me and about the boys I'd dated that she'd either met and hated or hadn't met and would hate. I told her about college and what I was wanting to do with my life. We talked about the book I'm writing and she told me how she felt throughout the events of my childhood. She told me a lot of stories about her when she was my age and younger. She talked about my Grandpa. A lot of the stories were the same ones she sat around and told us in the hours following his death; precious memories for her that brought a gentle smirk to her face and a shine to her eyes.

I learned two things about my grandma that day: she loved my grandpa with her whole heart from the very beginning of their relationship until the sad end, and getting to be with her grandchildren as we grew up was one of the biggest honors of her life. I felt like I understood so much about her and I felt bad that we hadn't had a talk like that before. It made me grateful for all the memories I had of her and I was happy that I would always have that conversation with her to remember when she was gone.

We dropped her off at her house; we helped carry in her bags and made sure she was alright before we left, but we weren't trying to stay. Jacob was driving up to Iowa and we wanted to see Aunt Angie before we headed back home. We hugged her goodbye and drove away without a second thought.

That was probably the last time I will ever talk to my Grandma and see her face in the flesh again. Over the last year, she's been going down fast. She was forgetting to take her medicine and to put away her groceries when she got home from the store. She dropped a dramatic amount of weight and started looking like a skeleton draped in skin. She was getting mean, she didn't want people to tell her what she should and shouldn't do, she didn't want anyone thinking she was incapable of doing anything herself. She started forgetting major events in our lives, like Matt getting married and Angie moving out of her house over 30 years ago. She was seeing people who weren't there. She forgot my Grandpa had passed away 7 years ago.

My dad and Aunt Angie tried to help her, my dad even offered to move her in with him in Milton, but she didn't want anything to do with their suggestions. She tried to cut them off and told them she never wanted to talk to them again. We couldn't convince her to take care of herself and she wouldn't listen to reason. She wasn't the Grandma I knew. She'd always been irrational, but not so irrational to cut off connection with her family, no matter how angry she got.

Early this week my dad got a call from his Aunt Marie. She said Grandma had been sitting on the floor for several hours and either couldn't get up or refused to do so, either way, she couldn't get her up off the floor herself. My dad laughed a little to himself at the fact that he was going to drive 3 hours to help his mom get off the floor, but I a part of him knew this was going to be the beginning of the end for her. He'd worked on hospice when he was young and he knew that some people nearing death would sometimes choose the floor as their deathbed, because they didn't want to be in their bed. A famous British Queen had chosen to take to the floor when she was dying and he knew his mother may possibly doing the same thing (she's always been a bit extra).

He got to her house, got her off the floor and into the emergency room. They transported her to the hospital in Bloomington, IL and took her to the ICU there. She had several infections and she was barely conscious of what was happening around her. The outlook didn't look great, and regardless, the doctors told my dad she would never be able to go home, she would need a nursing home or hospice care.

I got a call with the news the first day of my quarantine. I woke up to a text from one my roommates saying him and his girlfriend both had Covid-19. I had to call my job and start 10 days of quarantining in my house before I can return to work or leave my house again. Knowing my Grandma is dying makes quarantine seem a lot more suffocationg; probably because I'm in my house doing nothing, stuck with my thoughts, and far away from my family.

I'll confess and say that I didn't expect to be terribly upset when my Grandma died. Even when she was in her right mind, she wasn't always a nice person. She picked fights with a lot of us in her family. Something would bother her and instead of talking about it, she would jump into criticisms and saying hurtful things. It had been almost worse after my Grandpa died, because something about him just mellowed her out. She always treated us grandkids like little kids, even as adults with college degrees and tattoos; she hated our tattoos. She hated it when we listened to music with curse words in it, or watched scary movies because they were satanic. I wasn't sure it would be sad as much as it would be a relief.

I wasn't feeling relief when I got the call though, and I didn't feel relieved at all when Kevin called me a day later to tell me they were going to move her to hospice in a nursing home because they didn't expect her to live much longer than a week.

I don't really know how to express what I feel, to be honest. I am so happy for her right now, because she is going to be with my Grandpa again. That thought alone makes it almost seem so selfish that I wish she could stay for always and be the Grandma I had when I was younger. My Grandma was not the most likeable person, she was not always the nicest person. She had her flaws, but she was a great Grandmother as for as Grandma's go. She came to as many of my shows as she could make it to, she always sat in the front pew of my dad's church and cried when I sang, she was quick to offer to take us on trips as kids, she helped all of us to escape, she tried to make us laugh, she encouraged all of us to chase after what we wanted (that is, until Katelyn told her she was joining the National Guard, because she was worried). She wasn't perfect, not to any of us, she made mistakes, but I'm going to fucking miss her just the same. I want that person to be here.

Part of me is glad that the last moment I had with her was so special. I didn't know that would be the last time I would see her and it hurts even more that it happened over a year ago, but it was one of the best conversations I've ever had with her. I couldn't ask for anything more than that.

Dad and Angie have been cleaning her house and going through her things. We've all been pacing through time, dealing with the sadness we haven't truly earned yet. I think if my Grandma knew how much I've mourned her death before she's even passed, she would be absolutely pissed. I'll try to keep that in mind as the days go by until we say goodbye for real, until then I'll keep my memories of her close. She'll be going home soon, but I am praying for her constantly to have a safe trip back to Grandpa.

I'll see you again someday, Grandma John (aka G-ma, Gamamaw, Meemaw, Grandma, Mary, Grandma Mote)