Gram Jewell Died
I received a call from Mom at 4:30 this morning, informing me that Grandma Jewell passed away.
It took several hours for the message to sink in, and during that time, I experienced no urge to cry. In fact, I felt no sadness whatsover at first. What I felt instead was shame and guilt, over not having a stronger, more teary reaction to this (what should have been) very sad news.
I justified my lacking emotion with the assurance that we’ve known since February that Gram would soon die, and that in all those months since, I had already mourned her coming death as much as I was going to. So there should be no tears left to cry now. Also, [First Love] and I had just made up from a fight the previous evening; a disagreement over which I cried profusely. Thus, simply put: I reasoned that I was all cried out, though I pondered more than a few times this morning, over the notion that I wasn’t crying over Gram, because I’m just a cold person who cares not a bit about this wonderful woman, who gave so much of herself to me over the past nineteen years.
But then, as I lay there in our queen-sized bed, looking up at the yellowed ceiling tiles, and watching the new day growing brighter through the windows, I began drifting in and out of sleep, and dreaming. I dreamed of Mom’s call, when she said, “Your grandmother died.” The phrase, “she died,” kept playing over and over in my mind, and growing louder each time. “She died. She died, … SHE DIED!” Mom was screaming the phrase at me at this point as if to ask, “What’s the matter with you? I just told you that your grandmother died, and you just sit there like a lump, all cold and collected. Didn’t she ever mean anything to you?”
I woke up at the last, “SHE DIED!” scream, and then, I was crying, like a baby. The full and harsh reality of Mom’s call a couple hours ago came upon me then, and I cried for the better part of an hour; not just a whimper, but a full-fledged, all-out cry; not quite hysterical, but close.
[First Love] comforted me as best she could, knowing that this was my first time losing a grandmother. But I think the depth of my sorrow surprised her. She never knew Gram, and I hadn’t talked much about Gram with [First Love] in all the ten years that I’ve known her. Nonetheless, I cried so many tears throughout this awful day. that [First Love] realized just how much Gram meant to me. If [First Love] ever thought me to be a heartless man before, I trust now that any doubts she may have had about how strongly I can feel, were put to rest this morning.
I’ll be heading home to be with the family this afternoon, on the 5:45 PM Greyhound bus.