Every February this pain comes raging back, ripping me apart
|On February 17, 2007, I remember quite vividly what was going on around me. I was on the couch with Niki and Beka. I was lying down.. Beka was on Niki's lap, she was asleep. And Mom was on the computer. Around midnight the phone rang. It was Uncle Scott. They had to rush: to the hospital because Nana had taken a turn for the worst. My stomach dropped. It wasn't as if she had taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque with Bugs Bunny. We knew it was only a matter of time now. She had been doing so good it had seemed.... but we were wrong. As Mom rushed to get her pants on and get ready to go, Uncle Mike flew open the door. He told us to pray. He said it was no time to cry, we must pray, and we must do it diligently. I didn't want to pray; I was angry at God for this. I had a dream weeks before where I played God in a game of chess and he told me if I won, I could keep her longer. And I did, so why now, only a month after she had gotten really bad, is she being taken away from me?
I couldn't think and just like the in movies, everything was going in slow motion... sounds were a fuzzy mess... all I knew was I was losing her. Niki and I decided instead of going nuts we were going to watch Clambake with Elvis Presley. Granny had always loved Elvis. I still remember the night we watched Love Me Tender together. He had been such a horrible actor but I loved that movie so much..and the memories it built for me and her. But there would be no warm fuzzy memories of that night, just cold, dark painful ones of lying there, crying until my eyes couldn't stay open.
The next morning, February 18, 2007, I awoke. The sun shone brightly, the birds sang beautifully. The sky was a cerulean with small whisps of alabaster clouds, as if God had taken a paint brush and purposefully streaked the sky just enough. The day was majestic...and somewhere in my mind, too perfect. My nana loved these days, there just enough breeze to feel good, but not to freeze us. I sat at the computer, writing, listening to Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance and talking to Victoria on the phone. My mom's boyfriend kept beeping in and I refused to answer it. I didn't really care for the guy- trying to replace my dad and all.
I had taken a shower so my now black hair which was almost as long at that point as it is now dripped making the cool spring breeze caress my skin even more. I wore a white long sleeve shirt with the New Mexico Balloon Fiesta on it (my dad and his boyfriend brought me this from Albuquerque, NM. My sister had a matching one) and a pair of flared jeans that were ripped in the knees along with new white socks. The clock said 10:10 am when the phone beeped again. I grew irritated and looked at the caller ID. It said "Dan Gagnan" (someone had put my dad's last name in wrong...which was our own so that's still a bit confusing to me but whatever). I told Victoria to hold on, my insides were shaking. I answered and my dad told me she was gone. I begged him to be joking..I wanted to make him take it back. To tell me it wasn't true. But it was. She was gone. I gave the phone to my sister and broke down. This couldn't be happening. Not now. This all had to be a nightmare. I ran to my parents bedroom, screaming at the top of my lungs, punching anything near me that could take the impact. I wanted this to all just be the worst dream of my life. It wasn't. I called Victoria back, sobbing about my grandmother. She could barely understand what I was saying. I felt empty...lost. She was gone and left me here all by myself without her to confide in anymore. I sit here now, many years later, and even now on the inside, some days I feel lost. I wish God would give her back to me. I wish he would grant me just one more day. I know he can't, but that doesn't stop me from wanting it. I guess all in all, I'm not crying for her...... I'm crying for me. Because I am selfish, and she was the only good thing I had for a long time..