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If I could go back to any day, I would pick this day. Not to say goodbye one more time–no, that would be too hard. I would go back to say I was sorry for being so selfish. I would apologize for wanting to leave so badly. I would apologize for not spending every moment I could with her. I would also thank her for being my best friend.
I don’t remember what the weather felt like that day; it was in August, though, so it must have been warm. Granny was dying. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer just a few months before (in May, to be exact), and everything had gone so quickly. She was only in her early 50s; how could she be dying at such a young age? I watched her grow more sick every day. I watched her fear turn into calm. In the end, she was okay; she was ready to go. I wasn’t ready, though. I selfishly wanted her to hold on just a little longer; I wanted her to remain my best friend for a few more years, at least.
It was Thursday, August 5, 2004. (Was it really that long ago? It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago.) She was saying her goodbyes because she was prepared to go. She said that she had a dream about Jesus; he told her it would be okay, and she was just happy that she’d be going to see her family. I didn’t believe in God at the time. In that moment, though, I thought maybe.
She called each of us into her room, telling us that she loved us. When she called me in, it was hard to hold my tears back, but I felt like I needed to be strong for her. She told me to take care of her best friend (my Pawpaw, her husband since she was seventeen-years-old); I promised that I would. We knew she was dying. My aunt came to pick me up along with my younger brother and sister. Mom didn’t want them being there when it happened, and she wanted me to go with them to make sure they were okay. Granny asked where we were going, and we told her we were going to get ice cream. She said, “Don’t stay gone for long. Bring some back for me.” Though I knew we wouldn’t be coming back until it had happened, I kissed her cheek and whispered an “okay.”
Mom said Granny kept asking if it was Friday yet; she said she was going home on Friday. Everyone continued to tell her that it was only Thursday, still.
That night, I cried myself to sleep in the darkness. It was better when no one could see because, at least then, I seemed strong. I slept well despite the events, and I woke to the phone ringing around eleven the next morning. It was Mom. I knew it was all over. Granny had taken her last breath just minutes before. I can’t remember if I cried when my aunt confirmed what I already knew. I think I did, maybe. It’s all very foggy.
We got dressed and went back to Granny’s house. I remember being in some sort of daze; Granny was still there, laying in her bed, breathless and yellow. I took her hand, and I swear I saw her breathing, but I know it was just my imagination. It was odd. We spent countless hours watching her chest rise and fall, and now here it was … stopped. Lifeless. I kissed her goodbye for the last time, and they came to get her. (I’m not exactly sure who they were.) Mom made us go to another room with the younger kids so they wouldn’t have to watch them take her away to be cremated.
It was Friday.
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