I Regret Our Time Lost…

Patsy Cline’s Walking After Midnight was playing on the radio as I was holding my grandma’s hand. She always had her nails done with a French finish, I would rub my finger on each nail over and over until the ride was over. I really liked the smooth feeling, every time I would get in her Cadillac she would instinctively just lay her hand near me so I could do my daily, probably annoying, nail tick that I did. It would just fill me with comfort to be with her, like things were going to be fun no matter what I had been through that day. I have one specific memory that I sometime dream of in pieces. It’s strange. She picked me up from school and surprised me with a mall trip. I was holding her hand in the car and looking up at her just thinking, “how is it possible to be this graceful?” So, the dream goes in slow motion, the car is skewed, I can’t remember the interior, probably because she always had a new Cadillac, the sun is burning my eyes… I can smell her perfume. It’s almost a bit spooky… Patsy Cline is like slow motion singing in the background, but it’s safe… comfy. Unexplainable. Every time I wake up from this recurring dream, I immediately flip through dream sites trying to find its meaning, it turns out I’m gay. No, I’m just kidding. They all seem to say that when you dream of a person that has passed in a vivid way like that it’s actually them coming to visit and send you a message. I mean, if you believe in that stuff, and I definitely do. I am the biggest believer. But also, maybe I replay it every once in a while, because it was our best time when we were driving? Just calming, safe, and constant goofing… a way for my brain to make itself feel comfortable. 

One of grandma's new Cadillacs.

Let me start by saying my grandmother was unbelievable funny, a natural born comedian. The stuff she would come up with was random which was what was so hilarious about the things she did. For instance, when I was a kid, my mother made it a point to ALWAYS buy from people selling candy apples on the street, because they were hustling, and she liked that. But she NEVER let me eat the freaking candy apples because someone could have “poisoned” them… so, she threw them away. Once my grandmother came out to dinner with us and bought a candy apple from a kid on the street, my mother explained her concern that the candy apple makers may have all been in cahoots, poisoning apples left and right. No one was safe from the poisoned candy apples. Candy apple chefs would not rest until every last one of their customers were six feet under. My grandma ate the apple anyway, laughing at my mom the whole time. That night, at about 3AM, we got a call... it woke the whole house up because it was the ancient and lost artifact called the landline. The whole house rang, I woke up and asked my mom what was going on. On the line a whispering mysterious voice was muttering “apple…apple… apple,” it was my grandma pretending she was dying from a poisoned apple. To this day it was the best joke that ever landed in my presence. I don’t even know if I explained it well, you might have had to been there. She would come up with goofy things like that with every visit, as if she never lost her inner child. I mean, even when I was a kid, I wouldn’t come up with goofy things like that. Although, I might have lost my inner child around age 12, I was ready to purchase land and put it all on the Dow stock. I’m playing… I don’t buy stocks… the Dow is good right? Or is the Dow the general state of stocks… I could easily open Google but that would mean I would need to move my finger more than it must. I’ll assume the Dow is a state of mind. 

Family BBQ.

My grandmother passed in February of 2011 and there is so much I regret about those last years she had here... I definitely want to let that out, I’ve never spoke about my regrets to anyone before. It’s difficult to not think about her around this time of year since her birthday is coming up in October. I want to share some of our moments together here, kind of a way to document a bit of our time. Isn’t it strange to think that there is so many moments you have with someone that no one else will know about? 

She was a very healthy person in my eyes, worked out, didn’t drink, ate right, you know, really cared about what she put into her body. So, it was shocking to the family when we found out she was sick. Something that really freaks me out is that you can be this perfect person, you know, doing all the right things and still somehow you can get sick with no explanation. Meanwhile, someone else could be eating fast food every night and smoking constantly and live to be 99 years old. DNA is an enigma. Anyway, after she got sick time flew quickly, I thought there is no way in hell that she doesn’t come out of this healthier then before. I was a teenager and had moved on from our car rides and mall trips and had really removed myself from spending anytime with any of my family. I really felt isolated and, in a way, always will from my family for no apparent reason. It almost gives me anxiety to be around more than three family members at a time. But, when she had told the family they immediately rallied around her and would fill her house every night, making sure to get in time with her. I, of course, was being a teenager filled with that lovely angst people sing about. My mood was forever apathetic. I felt my family hated me and my grandmother was going to be fine. Around the time of her first year being sick, I had met my high school sweetheart, whom is now my husband, I wanted to selfishly just spend time with him. I feel deep regret that I was so selfish and ungrateful when I was younger, sometimes it’s just hard to see the big picture when you are young, you know? It wasn’t so hard for my cousins to spend time with her though and I noticed that. For us to be so close for so long, going from being together every day and having sleepovers on the weekend to just not even calling her when she needed it the most hurts my heart. Dwelling in memories and torturing myself with those memories that can’t be changed is my whole personality. But it feels good to write this down and let it out in a way. I’ve been noticing a lot lately that mostly what I’ve needed is to just talk about what is bothering me, bottling it up just makes you feel like you’re going to burst. Replaying things over and over in your head is a recipe for some embarrassingly over emotional cake.  

Grandma showing a little leg.

Look, I could write a whole novel about how special she was. When I was in elementary school, I was bullied so bad for being fat, she always reminded me I was beautiful, she always put a smile on my face when I needed it most. When I finally lost weight, she would tell me that I was too skinny, I wasn’t, but I think she knew it made me feel good, so she would pretend to be concerned that I might blow away. She would whisper in my ear that I was her favorite out of all the cousins and to never tell anyone… oops. No, I’m sure she told us all that. It was just a way for her to make me feel special and wanted. I’m just thinking about her a lot and wanted to let out what I did. 

The only photo I can find of us together.

You have no idea how much of an impact you had on my life. I miss you and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to not be so self-centered at the time and could have actually been there for you. I regret our time lost. I love you, grandma.