The all loving tenderness in a grandmothers touch or embrace, is the most love I've ever felt, and when that love is taken or threatened, you or I would would do anything to protect it correct? But what about when you cannot do anything about it? When it is slipping away and all you can do is watch? The impatient pacing waiting for answers, not being able to focus on schoolwork, the depression is what it causes. Taking life for granted can stab you in the heart at any moment in time.
Mid November 2013, walking into the solemn funeral home I looked into the faces of grief stricken relatives, memories and emotions strewn across their faces. My uncle, Alfred M. AKA Uncle Bell had passed in result of heart issues, it was hard for everybody, my grandmother had chosen not to attend because she was not feeling well at all to go, so she traveled back home and I did not think twice.
After the tears and rejoining of distant relatives we all left and headed back home from Manistee, MI to Grand Rapids, MI. When the news hit of my grandmother’s heart attack on the way back home I felt all strength leave my body, this was the woman that had taken care of all seven of her grandchildren at the same time while her daughters and son-in-laws were working full time, she was the one that encouraged me in everything I chose to do that made me happy, and I thought; could she be slipping away from me?
We raced to Spectrum health and waited with the family just getting over one death and waiting for another, it was almost too much. After a few hours of examining the doctors said it was unbelievable that she was alive, she had the heart attack a day before the funeral and did not even know it (she was used to dealing with pain) and that it was lucky she had no damage to the heart even though four of her arteries were ninety-nine percent clogged. They had to do surgery the very next day at seven-thirty in the a.m.. I watched the hospital bed rolling away from her room to the section we were not allowed in, our hands slipped apart, and I watched with tears down my face her heading to her salvation or her doom.
We went to the stale-aired waiting room and I spent my time either playing on my computer or homework, but most of the anxious hours were spent watching the clock, hour after grueling hour I watched the clock. Waiting for reassurance, updates, anything, nothing came until the very end. The doctor set my family down and gave us the rundown of what was done, overall he said that everything went just as planned or better than it could have been. That wave of uncertainty passed as those words flowed from his mouth. I sat in glee the next few hours knowing everything will be alright. We later walked down to her her room, and what I saw overwhelmed me. The tangle of wires, monitors and tubes fell around around her, constant beeping, and her swollen face, my brain could not take this image, I stormed out of the room trying to hide my sorrow without success.
I later sat by her bedside once again waiting for her to wake. I once again found myself looking right at the digital clock slowly ticking the time away. Next I knew three hours had passed, and I knew I must have fallen asleep. I looked around at the purple and baby blue splotches polka-dotting the walls and the city (Grand Rapids) in a great sprawl before me.
I watched the bustle of the city; a mother and baby waiting for a bus, a stressed business man turning red with rage on his phone, I could almost see his hair getting grayer. I turned around with a startle as my grandma made her first moves waking up. Even though I knew everything would be okay another thought popped into my head. I know that you hear this everywhere but taking life for granted is not a good thing, she was just always there, making food (delicious food) and just taking good care of everybody. She was 57 when I was born and now turning 70 this year, all it seemed like was a blink.