October 31, 2024

She's gone. The time I got to spend with her over the last month did more for me than I can put into words. I took care of her until the very end. Before she passed we got into the habit of drinking coffee together and chatting when I got home from work. Those chats over coffee came with a lot of laughs, some tears, and for me it was incredibly cathartic. I truly didn't know if I'd ever get to have that kind of relationship with my grandma again, and I'm beyond grateful I did, even if only for a little while. 

I brought Ellis over to meet her before she passed. I don't think she would ever say it out loud, but I think she liked him a lot. When they met, it was a bit awkward at first. She treated him respectfully, but coldly. I think she was just testing him. Eventually though, his kind smile and charm won her over and conversation flowed like a waterfall. She was impressed with his job, and even more impressed when he said he was working towards becoming a dentist and hoped to run his own practice someday. They seemed to get along really well. And I sat there at the table in relative silence soaking in an experience I didn't think I'd ever get to have. I brought a boy over to meet my grandma, and it felt completely normal. Even now it's like a dream. To top it all off, he impressed her even more by doing the dishes left over from the meal. When it was all over, I wheeled her over so we could see him off at the door, and as he was about to leave she feebly grabbed his sleeve and said, “I need to say this before you go. I won't be around much longer, but if I catch wind up in heaven that you've done anything to hurt my beautiful granddaughter, I'll put in a special request with God himself to smite you.”

He flashed his bright smile with a chuckle and said, “I'd never. Especially now that I know you've got heavenly connections.” 

She let go of his sleeve and said, “Good. You'd better be a man of your word.” And with that, he got in his car and drove off. I put my grandma to bed as the whole ordeal took a lot out of her, and then I sat on the couch and cried. She referred to me as her granddaughter for the first time. It was like everything I'd always hoped for was happening in one night. And it didn't stop there. She started calling me Hope instead of using my dead name. I would hear her on phone calls with her friends from church talking about me, referring to me as her granddaughter. Those moments were bittersweet because we both knew, this newfound relationship that we'd grown to love wouldn't last for long. 

When the day came, I could see it in her eyes. Like all the exhaustion she'd refused to let herself feel throughout her entire life had settled on her shoulders all at once. I brought her coffee in bed, although she was too weak to drink it. It was hard for her to speak so we didn't talk much, we just sat together with the windows open and listened to the mourning doves cooing in a tree somewhere. After about over an hour of complete silence, she turned to me and said in a voice fragile as glass, “You have grown into such a beautiful woman Hope.” 

I grabbed her thin, boney hand and cried. “Thank you, grandma.” I said. 

She gave me a smile, and there we sat, her hand in mine. She fell asleep, and I stayed. Eventually the somber song of the mourning dove gave way to the merrier chirps of the robin. And not long after that, she was gone.

I'm not sure where I go from here. My parents plan to sell her house, and they made it abundantly clear at her funeral that I was not welcome to move back in with them until I figured something out. Tish has a family so even though I think she’d be willing to give me a place until I figure something out, I don't want to impose on her and her family. I talked to Ellis about it, he said I could move in with him when he renews his lease at the end of the year. Other than that, I don't really have anywhere to go. Once next week comes, I'll be homeless. As for now I'm still sleeping in my grandmother's house. A place that had just begun to feel full, now feels so empty. At least you're still here, friend. 

• Hope