"Grandma has had a stroke." the text from my mother read.
I was obviously taken aback but really wasn't sure how to react. My grandmother is ninety-six years old. She has had various ailments, but somehow always comes out of them. A stroke obviously wasn't good, but I couldn't really digest what this might mean.
As I left school, another text came through.
"Grandma is having seizures. I am flying to Michigan tonight."
My breath seized in my chest. I found myself hoping that my mom would make it to Michigan before her mother died.
Gruesome images of my delicate Grandmother having seizures filled my mind. The horror. The pain. I cried. I didn't want her afraid, I didn't want her to hurt. The images would not go away.
My mother flew into Flint, Michigan that evening. It was a Friday. Flint is the sister city of my hometown, Saginaw. It was made famous by the Michael Moore film "Roger and Me" that detailed the economic collapse of the city after General Motors moved out. Most remember the scene where a Flint resident skins and eats a rabbit she caught, because there wasn't other food. It is one of the more memorable scenes.
"She is still unconscious." my mother texted.
"But does she seem comfortable?" I replied.
"Yes. She is not in pain."
"They are going to do CT scans to determine the amount of brain damage."
I spoke with my mom on Sunday.
"The test results are back. She has lost her ability to speak. Her left side is paralyzed....the stroke was massive, she has a lot of brain damage....".
My mother sounded awful.
"They are going to send her to hospice, we are hoping that she won't wake up, that she won't know the shape she is in.....".
"Alright, that's it." I responded, "I'm coming up there. I can arrive around four or around eight tomorrow, which do you prefer?".
"Four."
I called my job. My boss sounded amused that I was trying to call in sick for a Monday, on a late Sunday afternoon. I didn't know how to explain.
"I need to accompany my mom while they move my Grandmother to hospice." I said, without giving other details.
"Oh, Ms. Wagner, I am so sorry. Start by putting in for three days, put bereavement as the reason."
Three days seemed like a long time. When I think about it now I can tell I wasn't really thinking clearly or at least that my boss was thinking more clearly than me. I just wanted to help my mom through this. I knew her extended family was up there, brothers and and step-brothers and sisters, all of the spouses. My mom wasn't there with her husband, and she seemed very alone to me. I felt like she needed her own wing man; everyone else had one.
I bought a one-way ticket to Flint. When I arrived at the airport the following morning, my plane had already been delayed five hours because of weather in my layover, Chicago. I would miss my connection to Flint. I was surprised when the gate agent switched me to a direct flight on another airline that would get me in only an hour later than my original flight. I looked through the windows at the gray December sky and ordered my first of many Bloody Marys as I waited the five hours until take off.
My mother was waiting for me at the airport. We got on the highway and drove to Saginaw. Christmas lights lined the small old houses and yards. It looked northern, different than Atlanta in every way. My mother seemed a little scattered but purposeful, and was attempting to put on a happy face for me. We drove straight to the hospital.
As we walked to my Grandmother's room, I saw a small crowd outside of her door. My cousin and her partner, my aunt and uncle... I am not sure who else.
I gasped when I saw my Grandmother through the open door. She lay still, but her mouth was open and pulling in air. She did not have her teeth in. I knew that she would hate to be seen that way and wished someone would close the door. As I walked through the doorway, my cousin's partner looked at me with his eyes full of tears. I can't remember what he said, but I knew that he was in pain.
I hugged my Grandmother. I kissed her face. I stroked her arm and I talked to her. I smoothed her hair. I was never that affectionate with her when she was alive, wait, I told myself, she is alive. I was never that affectionate with her when she was...conscious. But now she just seemed so small and delicate, almost childlike but not infantile.
I wanted her to know that I loved her, in all of the ways I never expressed when she was conscious.
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