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- Volume VI: In My Own Words 2016/2017
- In the Wake of Determination
In the Wake of Determination
Cassie Croy
"Before she passed, she opened her eyes for the first time in a long time. She looked at each of us, and without saying a word, she closed her eyes and passed peacefully." My mom's shaky voice fills the chapel as she stands next to the casket, a black dress hanging from her body. Her dark face is bare of makeup as she begins to read the eulogy she prepared; there is not one person in the room with dry eyes. "She loved everyone. No one was a stranger to her, but just another person to call family," my mom continues. I try my best to focus on her words, but my eyes keep falling on the casket that sits beside her. I half expect my grandma to sit up and smile, to hear her laugh fill the room, or to just feel her embrace, but I know that she is gone forever. I suck in a deep breath to try to prevent the sobs that threaten to come out. I look down and read a description of my grandma's life from the pamphlet that is in my hands. Her whole entire existence is flattened onto a small 4x8 piece of paper.
"As we remember Glinda, remember that she is always with us," the pastor speaks, pulling
me out of my trance. "At this time, everyone can come up to see her one last time
before exiting to the right. The family has asked that immediate family members take
a flower from her casket." Music fills the chapel as everyone starts to rise, and
a video plays that was made for this day. Pictures from various moments of her life
were put together to commemorate her. Row by row, people file toward the front, and
row by row the crying becomes louder. My row comes last, and reluctantly I stand up,
my legs weak from the weight of the day. I wobble toward the casket, the back of my
heels digging into my skin. When I arrive, I look down at her. She finally looks like
herself. Her once colorless skin is now full of color. She wears her favorite red
dress and glasses, even though she will never see from them again—she is herself.
Her short gray hair falls shy of her eyebrows and her lips are formed into a thin
line. I take one last look at her before I pick a yellow rose from her casket; her
favorite color suddenly becomes mine as I breathe in the sweet scent of the beautiful
flower full of life. As I walk out of the room, warm tears pour down my face. I cry
tears of happiness knowing that she will never feel pain again, I cry tears of sadness
knowing I'll never see her again, and I cry tears of relief knowing that she is finally
free of the beast that took her life in five short months.
I turn toward the doors of the chapel and realize that I will never see her again.
Without another thought, I run back into the chapel. The music still plays even though
nobody is listening, and the room has a strong aroma of flowers from the endless amounts
that surround the now closed casket. She was a woman of courage, determination, and
love. When she was at her worst, she never gave up; instead, she embraced life with
everything she had. As I stare at the shiny wooden casket, I realize that it is the
final goodbye. I run my fingers along the casket, feeling the smooth surface of the
wood. I look all around me at the multitude of flowers, pictures, and drawings, and
I promise to live through her and carry her determination and love with me for the
rest of my life. I walk out the doors for the last time, and I remember some of the
words she once wrote:
Remember me but do not cry; I will be the rainbow after the storm.
*************************
"Is she okay?" I ask my auntie as we sit on the couch, the sweet smell of green beans filling the air. She purses her lips as she continues to file her nails.
"I don't know, she has been having a lot of issues lately," she says, running her
hand through her short gray hair nervously, her foot shaking on the small table in
front of the couch. I look at the empty chair where my grandma usually sits; her coffee
is on the end table completely full and a heating pad remains in her spot. She refuses
to admit that she is hurting— instead, she deals with her pain as much as possible.
She has always been a very stubborn woman, determined that she could overcome any
obstacle. The trailer creaks, breaking me out of my thoughts. She makes her way through
the kitchen, the stick-on tiles give way with each step. She appears in the living
room, a white fleece jacket hugging her thin body and her short, wet hair sticking
to her forehead from her bath. The silence of the room is replaced with her humming
of various songs that she morphed together.
"Would you guys like to watch a movie?" I ask, grabbing the remote to flip on the
TV.
"Of course! It is Monday movie night after all," my grandma laughs, pulling her heating
pad to her stomach. I flip through the endless number of movies before finally settling
on one: "A Little Bit of Heaven." Little did I know, that movie would have a greater
effect on us than any movie ever has.
*************************
The sound of my alarm pierces through the air, screaming at me to wake up—another Monday morning of the same old routine. I sigh and open my weary eyes, reaching for my phone to snooze the alarm. I take in the silence as I pull my blanket closer to my face, shutting my eyes for a brief two-minute nap. The time dissolves all too quickly, and I wake up to my mom lightly knocking on the door, her face peering through the crack.
"You up?" she asks, her smooth voice radiating through the room. I mumble something
back, not fully awake. She pushes the door open, and the shoe that keeps it from opening
all the way drags across the floor. "I have some news," she sighs, sucking in a long
breath. I open my eyes and look at her sullen face; her eyes are clouded with darkness.
The deep bags under her eyes made it apparent that she has been crying. She sits on
the corner of the bed, placing her green lunchbox at my feet. "It's about grandma,"
she croaks as her eyes fill with tears, "She has cancer." Cancer? My mind races. I
look up at the white ceiling, tracing the flower spirals in my mind.
"How bad is it?" I ask, the lump in my throat grows, making it hard to speak.
"We don't know. We'll find out today." More and more tears fall from my eyes as I
think of the worst that is yet to come. I knew something was wrong, but she would
never admit it. I think back to all the times that she would wince in pain from the
slightest movements, and yet, I couldn't help her. She puts on a brave face and pretends
to be okay. Her words constantly run through my head:
I am a glorious sunrise soft and warm.
*************************
We slowly come to a stop as the light turns from yellow to red. My mom lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing a thick cloud of smoke. The car fills with the poignant smell that causes my lungs to clench. I exhale deeply, trying to remove all traces of it from my lungs. I grip the car seat and try to keep my mind off the smoke. The smooth feeling of cloth rubs against my sweaty palms as I tap my index finger to the beat of the music. Suddenly, a screeching sound fills the air, drawing my attention to the construction around me. Men in orange vests line the freeway, directing big yellow vehicles where to go. I watch them until we pull away, their work slowly disappearing through the rear-view mirror.
"Cass," my mom says, pulling me from my daze, "there is something I need to tell you."
She flicks the cigarette butt out the window before returning her attention back to
me, "Grandma is very sick." Her knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel
harder with each word.
"She'll be okay, right?" I ask, gripping the seat tighter than before.
"She has stage four colon cancer. There is a huge mass in her colon, we call it 'the
beast'," my mom's green eyes become glassy as she focuses on the road, "they gave
her four months to live." My throat closes, and I can't bring myself to say another
word. Instead, I look out the window and watch as the trees fly by; I clasp my hands
together and pray.
Dear God, can you hear me? I need you now more than I ever have. Please let her be
okay, God, just let her be okay. She has been faithful to you; she has given you her
life. Why her? What did she do to deserve this? Miracles happen every day. Just please,
show us a miracle. Let her be okay.
Warm tears fall into my clasped hands as I finish my prayer; my heart feels drained.
"I believe in her, Mom. She is such a strong woman. She will make it. I know she will,"
I say between sobs before I finally break down. I lay my head on the car door, close
my eyes, and reminisce about the time I spent with her. Her voice radiates through
my mind:
I am a beautiful flower that's cornflower blue.
*************************
"You need to come say goodbye," my mom spoke through the speaker on my phone, "It
isn't good."
"Okay," I choked out, staring at the blank TV screen.
"Bobby will come and get you in a little bit. Get the boys ready." I look over at
my two little cousins who are sobbing into the recliner.
"I will, I love you," I say before ending the call and collecting my cousins into
my arms. Their tears stain my shirt as I hold them close to me. "It's okay boys, it'll
all be okay," I whisper, trying to soothe their aching hearts. I run my hand through
their blonde hair, letting my own tears fall onto them.
"I'm here!" my step-dad, Bobby, yells from the foyer, "Are you guys ready?" I get
up and look at the plump man that just walked through the door; he is wearing an Ohio
State hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I flash a weak smile in his direction as I make my way toward the door. The humid
air hits my face as I walk into the warm July night.
"Is she okay?" I ask as I help my cousins into the SUV. His brown eyes darken in sadness,
and without saying a word, he gets into the driver's seat. The car ride is silent
as we make our way to my grandma's house.
When we arrive, I slowly make my way toward her house; the porch steps creak with
each step I take. I stare at the white door in front of me and take a deep breath
before pushing it open. The silence is filled with sobs. People are scattered throughout
the living room, their eyes puffy from endless amounts of crying. My eyes finally
fall to my mom who is sitting on the floor, her blonde hair messy and her shirt stained
from the endless days of wear. Before I know it, I fall into her arms and cry.
"Do you want to go see her?" she asks, her voice hoarse. I nod my head and wipe my
wet eyes before getting up to head toward my grandma's room. As I walk through the
hallway, loud gurgling noises fill the air from her struggling to breathe. She lies
on the bed, her body completely motionless. Her once plump body has dwindled down
to nothing but bones. Her natural yellow pigment has been replaced with gray.
"I don't want to say goodbye, Mom. It's not goodbye. It's not goodbye! It is 'see
you later.' She won't be gone forever, I'll see her again," I cry. My throat tightens,
I feel my heart breaking the more I look at her colorless body. With each breath she
takes, I am afraid it will be her last. "I love you, grandma. You can let go. You
have been so strong. We will be okay. You will be okay," I whisper one last time before
I leave the room. She has fought the hardest battle and has never given up. I take
a deep breath and think of the words she wrote:
So, if there is no time to say goodbye, remember me, but do not cry!
*************************
I write on the small, helium filled balloon. The squeaking of the sharpie fills the air. I feel the cold ground on my bare feet as the beginning of fall is nearing. The words "I miss you" are situated on the balloon in big, bold letters. I hug it close to my body before releasing it into the sky. It dances with the wind as it slowly starts to disappear. The once easily visible purple is completely gone, and I whisper "happy birthday," as my balloon makes its way to heaven. I reflect on the strength that my grandma showed during her last few months on earth, and how she never gave up. She showed strength, determination, and courage. She taught me what it is like to be a fighter, and how to be strong when everything is going wrong. Instead of just letting cancer take her life, she used the time she had left to the absolute fullest. I smile to the sky and say my final goodbye before once more repeating her words:
When my life is over and I've moved on to another place
Where you can no longer see my face.
If there is no time to say goodbye,
Remember me but do not cry.
I'll paint you a rainbow after the storm,
A glorious sunrise soft and warm,
A beautiful flower that's cornflower blue,
This will be my gift to you.
So if there's no time to say goodbye,
Remember me but do not cry!