Grandma’s Passing (10/10-12)

Last week, I began receiving emails from my grandfather and mother concerning the growing seriousness of my maternal grandmother’s condition. Her kidney’s had finally failed. A diagnosis given to her a little over 3 years ago finally came true. And, as the emails affirmed, all that was left for all of us was to wait and pray for Jesus to take her home. For her part, she had been ready to go for a long time. Her last few years were not exactly the most comfortable of her life as her body slowly poisoned itself from Type B Diabetes.

I knew that Grandma could go any day now, so before I came to Korea I flew down to Arizona for a little under a week to say good-bye to her. She never wanted people to come to a funeral, it turns out. She wanted them to come to her while she was still living, so I guess I did right by her.

I was never really close to her. How could I be? We always lived so far apart and rarely talked to each other. Still, I found myself hard hit by the news, first that she only had one day left, and then the final email I read on Thursday morning reporting her death on Wednesday, October 11, 2007 10:00 pm MT in America. Or was it Tuesday? I can’t be sure with the time difference, and that’s somehow all the sadder. What’s even more sad? When people would ask how old she was when she passed, I had no idea.

I wrote her a letter by way of apology and by way of thanks for all that she did for me as my grandmother. It is quoted at the end of this entry. At my lowest moment, I could not call family as they were asleep, so I took a chance that one of my VALPO friends, Isaac, may be awake. He was, and he was actually with another good friend of mine, Jordan, who apparently had quit Disney on Ice and was at VALPO helping the theatre department and celebrating homecoming. (It turns out that I was actually quite lucky to get even Isaac. A couple of days later and he would have been on a sailing vessel for his SEA Semester.)

The three of us talked of the surrealism of talking across continents and oceans and even time. We talked about how VALPO was doing, what news we had of friends, what we had done since we graduated, the quality of American beer vs. its Korean counterparts, of which there is no comparison. We of course talked about Grandma as well, but the conversation served mostly to distract me. It was good to hear their voices again, as I will not see them again in God knows when.

Other friends who knew offered their prayers. In fact, Isaac told the Chapel community at VALPO about what was happening. I told the Program in Christ email list. Prayers are a comfort in times of trouble and efficacious to heal and console by the will of God. Some friends even offered to visit, but I felt that I was not so far low that I would need that.

And of course, I talked with my fellow English teachers who told me that they were sure my grandmother had gone to Heaven. Ironic, considering how religious they are. I tried to tell my host family in Korean on Friday night. I even made a special trip out to the beauty shop after TKD so I could tell them, fearing that I may be too tired when they returned home. Luckily, my collegiate host sister was there (SURPRISE!) to translate.

But it did affect me terribly in terms of teaching. My Thursday morning classes were a disaster. I forgot things right and left for the first class. The beginning adult class I taught that day was monstrous as the Character was there once again, and I pretty well was showed up by a Filipino English teacher who was there “just to watch”. Still, I blame myself for my performance in those classes.

I just wish I could have been home right now. There is no funeral. There will only be a memorial service on Saturday. I will press on. I will miss her, but I am happy for her and will press on.

The letter to Grandma:

For Grandma Howard: A Living Eulogy
“My Thank You Card to You”

My grandma does not like tears. She does not want people to cry over her passing. She does not like funerals, and so she does not want one. She wants people to say what they have to say about her while she’s in her mortal coil. She wants people to visit her while she is still alive. I, who am half a world away in a country where grandparents are celebrated and revered almost as gods, cannot perform this filial duty. And so I, a grandchild now grown, will write what I think and pray that it reaches her in time.

As a grandchild, though now grown, I have only a child’s perspective. I never had the opportunity to talk to my grandmother about what she thought about politics, international affairs, or religion. We never talked about the adult things of life. We never talked about the hard things of life. She talked as a grandmother talks to her grandchildren. When I arrived at her house, she would ask, How was your trip? followed immediately by Are you hungry? When I wasn’t hungry, the question turned to Why aren’t you eating? In winter or at the movie theatres, it was Aren’t you cold? At the beginning of the day, over breakfast, What do you want to do today? And when the day was done, Did you have fun doing what we did today? At night, before bed, How about a story? (That question, when I grew old, became How about some television before bed?) She was a caretaker for me.

My answers were typical of a child answering to a guardian. Good. Yes. I don’t know. No. I don’t know. Yes. Sure, Grandma. Even when I grew older, those answers were all too brief. I should have asked her about herself. What was her life like growing up? Did she have the same fears I did? The same dreams? How did she know to marry Grandpa? What was it like to take care of Mom and Uncle Charlie? And a conversation could develop, and two people could actually know each other past that all too biological and chanced familial bond. My answers were all too brief, my questions all too late, and the visits…

Well, the visits were all too few. My grandma is a wonderful woman who loved her grandchildren even when they could not visit her. Most people, I suppose, imagine becoming grandparents to be like it is in the movies, or at least in the Betty Crocker commercials. Little people skip and run and laugh down the sidewalk as they hurry and rush and clamor to grandmother’s house just down the road from school. Grandma waits at the white picket fence for the children, arms opened wide to receive their loving hugs. Inside, freshly baked goods and lemonade (or hot cocoa in the winter) await all.

Most people probably imagine laughing at and teasing their own children, newly moms and dads, when they see them having trouble raising grandchildren. (As Bill Cosby quipped, “Not as easy as it looks, is it, Son?”) The new parents have to scold the grandchildren who run into the protecting arms of their grandparents whose scolding days are long done.

But my sister and I, and even my cousins, were never close enough to Grandma’s house to traipse there after school days. We were never close enough for Grandma to make fun of Mom and Dad for their parenting techniques (Perhaps we were by telephone, but I doubt that my parents would have thought it my business to know about it), or for my sister and my cousins and I to climb into her lap on a regular basis when Mom and Dad seemed too harsh or scary. We were just never around, and grandma had to be satisfied with the pictures we would send, the occasional phone calls we would make, and the even less frequent thank you cards we would send for Christmas and Birthday presents. (I am getting better at that last one though Grandma, so thank you for being patient with me. It only took me 22 years!)

And those are my regrets. That I did not know my grandma like I could have. That I did not make the extra effort to know her like I should have. That now, if I could do it again, I would have.

She will probably say that I should not have regrets, but regrets are inevitable I think in this life.

And that’s why we have Thank You’s. So, Grandma, if you hear this (or even read this) before you go to see God, know that I am crying about you, but it is only because I love you and I want to thank you. Thank you for being my grandma even when I did not talk to you. Thank you for being my grandma when I did not ask about you. Thank you for being my grandma when I did not visit you. Thank you for being my grandma when it seemed like I did not love you. Because I do love you, Grandma, and I will miss you.

But I am also happy for you. You are going on an adventure. One day I will follow you, and when you ask me on that day, “How was your trip?”, well then we’ll have a lot to talk about.