Behind the Inhaler Pt. 10

If you've ever lost someone extremely close to you then you know how it is. You tell yourself, convince yourself even that they're in a happier place, that it's for the better and you'll be together again someday, but in the back of your head you always wonder. Are they safe? Are they really still with me? Losing my Grandy was a reality check of epic proportions. Losing her made me a realist, and it made me bitter. She was my Grandy, my best friend, and my anchor. She kept me grounded.

My Grandy was diagnosed with lung cancer in the spring of 2007. My parents knowing I would take it horribly hid the fact from me, my Grandy living three hours away decided to play along...you can only imagine how devastated and betrayed I felt when I found out from my brother who thought I should know. I understand my parents concern to an extent. But I still have to wonder how they determined hiding the fact that my Grandy was fighting for her life was good for me. I wish I could have been there for her in the beginning, but I didn't know.

I talked to her on the phone as often as I could. I sat here in Ohio worrying as she was passed from specialist to specialist in this state and that state. Finally once summer came I got to see her. Visiting my Grandy and Papas was always the highlight of my summer. I love them both deeply and they truly were amazing people. Summer prior to '07 I would stay with them for weeks. Just the three of us. My Grandy and I would go to the beach almost everyday, we'd sit on her bench that she had been sharing her secrets with since she was a little girl, we eat ourselves sick with Toft's and Pide Pipper ice cream and watch Forrest Gump together until we could recite every line by heart. This summer was much different.

For one my aunt and cousin flew up from Florida to be with us. I've seen my aunt a whopping two times in my entire life, though you'd never guess seeing as she facebook stalks me. I quickly came to realize that this wasn't just a summer visit. This was supposed to be goodbye. There are things about that trip I will always remember and things I want to forget.

I want to remember her laugh, her smile, and how elated she felt when she was having a good day. I want to forget how thin she was, how weak she looked, and how defeated she came of as. The last living memory I have of her is looking out the back window of my moms van onto their driveway as she cried and waved goodbye, I was crying too. We both knew. I don't know how, but we did. And I will always remember what it felt like to step away from the goodbye hug knowing I would never again see her.

After that summer her condition fell even more. She no longer accepted my calls, she didn't want me to hear the pain in her voice, and we very rarely conversed. On November 8th, 2007 my Grandy hit a break through in her cancer. The doctors thought that the worse over and that the latest chemo was working. On the morning of November 10th my Grandy suffered a stroke. Her body had already been tour to shreds, the cancer had done it's job and the stroke pushed her over the edge. My Grandy was taken off of life support that evening. I was at a horse show when I found out in Cleveland and I shut down.

I don't think any part of me was functioning correctly. Just days before I had cried tears of joy upon learning that maybe, just maybe they could beat this cancer and just like that it's all over.


One of the most difficult parts I found was arriving at the funeral home for the wake, walking into the main room and there on this nice table staring me in the face is a small box containing what was left of her. There she was in this box. This stupid mocking box. After about thirty minutes of "you look just like her"'s and "I'm so sorry about your grandmother"'s I had had enough. I went outside and sat on the freezing steps leading to the funeral home, and cried my heart out. It began to snow while I sat on those steps. Small delicate flakes, the first ones of the year. I truthfully think that maybe the snow was sent by her. Showing that she was still with me.

The funeral was painfully long and Catholic. If you've ever been to a Catholic funeral service than you know. It's hours of singing, monotonous prayers, and burning of random things. My being asthmatic and sitting in the front nearly died at my own grandmothers funeral. They were freaking burning this stuff off right in front of me. I'm not very religious as you could have guessed, but my Grandy was so I didn't argue for her sake.

It's been three long years and it's been three hard years. I became very depressed after her death and didn't interact with many. I created my own painful world in which I fought daily battles with myself. If you've ever been depressed than you know just how difficult and serious it is. You suddenly start thinking thoughts you never thought conceivable. I fought depression on my own. Seeing as my parents thought it to be a hormonal phase (because I pms'ed for two years straight /sarcasm). Without my close friends or horses I probably wouldn't have found the strength to get over my own personal hell. And I'm not saying this because I want pity. I want everyone to understand that not everything or everybody is what meets the eye.

This theme is carried over in Twelve Angry Men. We went through the emotional struggles of twelve men as they tried to determine whether or not  a boy accused of murder was in fact a murder.

Mr. Potter, before you go calling guidance counselors and  therapists, you should know that I've fought my way out of depression and am working on becoming a much stronger person on my own, which I think has in the long run benefited me.

I've grown to realize that no matter how much I cry, how angry I get, or how much I tempt life I can't bring her back. I can forget her voice, her smell, and her laugh but no one can ever take away the memories and love I had for her. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself. As lame as that sounds.

November 10th is getting easier as the years pass. One day it will simply be November 10th, not November 10th the day your Grandmother died and you turn into a bigger emotional wreck then the man/woman who begged us all to leave Brittney Spears alone a few years back.

I bet hardly anyone will bother reading this enormous rant, it was way overdue and I apologize for it's size...but if you did survive this rant I ask that you're respectful of my past. It's very hard for me to come out and say that I was depressed, that I wasn't always strong and that I was weak. Sometimes we just need to get things off our chests...

Taken at Relay for Life a few years back. If you ever have the chance to participate in one you should, they're amazing. Twenty-four hours, over thirty miles, it was a blast.

Old picture taken that summer '07. The hobbit on the left is my brother, Jimmy, then me, my father, my mom, my Grandy, my Papa, my Aunt Joan, and my cousin Meg.