Death stared at me from the same recliner she always did.
Her veins wrapped around her legs like spider webs.
She poured pepper on her perogies and commentated for the TV,
“No whammy, no whammy, no whammy, Stop.”
I was too busy making plans on my phone.
“Isn’t this nice?”
Yes grandma
She used to clean her Catholic church on Saturdays.
I’d bring my toys she got me from McDonald's
and ran my race cars through the ramps filled with holy water.
She’d lay arms stretched before the alters and I’d follow suit,
but only in play. Our devotion was not the same.
“You make me so proud, my little Christian.”
Yes grandma
I’d spend nights for what must of been months,
because she lived in town where the parties were.
I was chasing tail, drugs and alcohol.
We’d both pretend she had no idea at all.
Our best conversation following a night of glassy eyes.
What we said I can’t recall.
Soon enough the pattern fell as I finished high school.
I moved away and walked new halls, an undergraduate.
It was in those halls my phone cried out and I soon after.
I drove new roads my eyes a flowing well.
We waited outside her room in vain.
I would not get see her that day.
I made a point to see her once she returned home.
She now sunk where her rear was once plump.
Her skin sagged relieved from the pressure.
Fluid dripped out her lungs the color of Pepto Bismol,
and they missed every second breath.
Yet, she was beaming, “Look how skinny I am.”
Yes grandma
I’d only see her once more, after another trip.
She slept in that same recliner as the TV played.
Wispy white hair, thin pressed lips and tired eyes.
Her head hung against her chest and I hid mine.
My sister asked if I’d like to wake her just to say hi.
I considered it, but thought better.
“No, I'll catch her next time.”
Recalling my grandmothers death.
It's still hard.