The Last Day

As Grandma was dying, we’d take turns visiting on the weekends. She was very weak and we could be pretty high-energy. I loved her with all of my twelve year old heart, but one weekend, I chose to stay home.

The American Royal was in town and Grandma was feeling good. I really wanted to go, but I was twelve. A phone call from my best friend was equally important. I don’t remember why I was so desperate to wait for Kasi’s call, I saw her every Sunday, but it was all I could think about that weekend. So, I told my parents to tell my grandparents that my sister could go in my place.

I sat by the phone all day.

When my sister finally came home, the first thing she said was that she’d run into Kasi. “She says ‘Hi.'”

Grandma got sicker and I wasn’t able to visit again. She died five months later.

Almost a year passed and I was riding in the back of the pick up truck. Dad was driving, the whole family was crammed in, and as I looked out the window at the traffic and just started to weep. At first it was the silent kind, but then it was full on sobs. Mom asked “What’s wrong, Sarah?”

“Grandma’s dead,” I gasped through the tears.  Surprised, Mom just said, “She’s been dead for months.”

“I know,” I cried.

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. ghostgirl556 says:

    Maybe it just took long to sink in.. 😦

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Call me Cordelia says:

      It did. :/

      Liked by 1 person

  2. clcouch123 says:

    Like reading from Joyce’s Dubliners. More importantly, the inner story is yours and took time, a year, to be more fully realized. Makes sense, if sad sense, to me. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

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