Memories

The things that you would like to forget always find a way of popping up.

I was sitting at the bus stop today and as I was staring off into the distance a thought came to me that I hadn’t wanted to think about. The thought was one of the many images of my grandmother lying in her hospital bed dying. Even now the thought makes me want to cry.

I try so hard to remember my grandmother the way she used to be. I have no idea if it is because these are the most recent or what but the thoughts that I don’t want of her seem to make themselves present all the more.

The things I see are like this:

It is a cold and dark hospital room. My grandmother is lying there struggling to breathe. She has one of those air tubes in her nose and at times when her breathing was really bad they would put an oxygen mask on her. She is surrounded by all of her children. Her four daughters and her only son. There right by her side is my grandfather. There are so many people that all the chairs have been taken. My sisters and myself sit on the floor. I hate how I remember this. I hate how I saw her try so hard to live only for her to die. I hated seeing her scared. If she was scared then how will I be when my time comes?

I know everyone has his or her time but I just fear the unknown of it all. This year was rough enough as it is and the fact that these thoughts keep coming back to my mind angers me more. I want to remember the times she was happy. I want to remember her loud and contagious laugh. I want to be able to hear her walking down the hall again. The simplest childhood memories are starting to fade. I fear that I will not remember all of those things that made my grandmother who she was. That thought saddens me because I know those childhood memories would be an immense comfort to me.

I guess one thing that I want the most is to know if she was proud of me. I was never really home that much because I was either at school of at work. I’d like to thing she was proud of me. I was the first grandchild to graduate college. Would she be proud of me now? Who knows? The time has come to end this and prepare myself for work. Another three days of standing and scanning.

**Note** this was written on Friday in my notebook.