This was not easy for me to write... I did not enjoy writing about it. But I needed to write it, so here it is.
A Time of Darkness
I remember that night oh so clearly. My grandmother had been sick for several days following a series of strokes. She did not want to be in a nursing home or in a hospital, so her care fell into the hands of family - specifically myself, my mom, and one of my aunts. My mom had also enlisted the help of one of her friends to watch my grandmother during the afternoons so I could have some time away since I basically took care of my grandmother most of the time except for when my mom or my aunt came to give her breakfast or when my mom came to help her to bed. One of my uncles also had also been coming to visit her nearly every night after she returned home from the hospital after the first stroke.
It had been a difficult time to say the least. My dad had passed away in 1991, and my mom was still dealing with court. I was still grieving, and really wasn't myself at the time. We were not prepared for the stroke that put my grandmother in the hospital in the early part of 1992. We did the best we could when she returned from the hospital, hoping she would get better, but it soon became obvious that she was not going to get any better. Under the stress of watching my grandmother - the one who had always loved me, always did so much to take care of me, was always so wonderful to me - suffer and slowly fade away, I pretty much fell apart. I had a lot of personal struggles during that time as well, and I still feel so guilty for not being there for my grandmother as much as I should have.
But that night, I could feel things coming to an end. I had spent a lot of time working out in the yard even though I could feel it inside - this would be the last day I would be able to take refuge in my yard work.
I went into the house and checked in on my grandmother. She looked so frail and weak. Not at all like the strong person who had been there all my life. I did not want to admit it to myself, but I knew she was dying. I gave her some water, and talked with her for a few minutes before going out to the garage with my boyfriend to listen to music and play video games. This had become another refuge for me. The games and the music were a brief escape from the pain. On that night we listened to a cassette that I had just bought.
As we listened to the music, I could not free myself from the horrible fear that the music seemed to amplify. I had made a black friendship bracelet for myself that night, and even as I put it on my arm, I tried to convince myself that I was not wearing black as a mourning band - it was a friendship bracelet.
When we came in from the garage, I went in to check on my grandmother. I gave her some more water and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. There was an odor in the room... and I recognized it from when I was about seven years old. I had gone with my mom to one of her former patient's house, and despite being told to wait outside, I had gone into the house that night looking for my mom. I could smell the odd smell throughout the house. My mom told me it was death. Now, as I smelled this same smell, I tried to tell myself I was wrong.
The next morning, my mom came early with her friend, then decided to take her friend home and stay with my grandmother herself. By the time she got back, my grandmother had suffered a massive stroke. She died in the hospital that afternoon.
I spent a lot of time outside that evening, just sitting on the ramp that had been build for my grandmother's wheelchair. Her dog Muffet tried to comfort me although she too felt lost and was grieving. I did not go out into the garage that night. I did not want to hear the music. The cassette I had bought now haunted me. I did not know what was going to happen next.
I remember wandering into my grandmother's bedroom and refilling her water glass. For some reason, I felt it should be refilled. I also wound her alarm clock up for her even though I knew she didn't need it anymore. Then I returned to my room and let the darkness close in.
There were many dark nights after that. For a long time I lived in my bedroom, and rarely did I venture out into the living room. The TV that had been on everyday for as long as I could remember now sat silent. The curtains stayed closed. Dishes that had been in the sink stayed there unwashed. I only went into the kitchen to feed the animals, to get something out of the refrigerator, or to use the microwave. Most of the time there was no food in the house, so I avoided the kitchen except to feed the cats and the dog or to put newspaper over the mess they made under the kitchen table.
Things got to the point where I would get out of bed as it was getting dark outside, take a shower, dump some dry food in the dishes for the animals, then go to my mom's house to clean her house for her. My mom was usually gone to bingo at that time, so I rarely even spoke to another person unless my friend Sean was there working for my mom or I had to run errands for her. I rarely saw my boyfriend even though he lived in the other room. I preferred it this way. I didn't want to be around anybody. I wanted to be alone with the music that constantly surrounded me. I wanted to be lost.
I don't know how or why it happened, but one day I got up early while my boyfriend was at work, and I decided to clean up the living room. I put away all the junk that was on the couch, then vacuumed the couch. Then I continued to put away all of the things that my family had left scattered that night when they had met up at the house and taken the things that they had wanted. I continued cleaning until my boyfriend got home. That night we sat on the couch and watched TV together. It was a bright spot in the middle a horribly dark time of my life.
As I write about that horrible time, I am listening to the music that haunted me the night my grandmother died, but I am no longer haunted by it. The darkness is long gone, though some memories are finally coming back to me. Each memory opens a door to what was once a haunted place in my mind, and as each door is open I am finally able put things to rest.
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