GG

 I don't even know how to start this. 

Chaz has been saying this would be the hardest and I kept brushing him off. 

We've got time. We've got time. We've got time. 

My Grandma, Gma, or GG as the kids call her, went into the hospital in the early Spring, Right as Covid was peaking.

I remember I was doing yoga in my room because everything was shut down. I got a Facebook call, which is weird because I didn't even know that was a thing. 

I answered and immediately was annoyed to see my brother, mom and aunts faces, probably just dorking around and wanting to say hi. 

"Ugh! I'm trying to do yoga! I'm getting fat in quarantine, leave me alone!" I shouted at their faces. 

"Shut up, this is important sis!" 

When Chaz uses the word Sis, I always sit up a little straighter and try to put on my big sister, I'm-more-responsible-and-older-than-you-don't-call-me-Sis pants. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

"GG went into the hospital." 

They assured me it was ok and that she was being taken care of.  I said ok and went back to yoga. Charlie came in and asked if I was ok, I brushed him off and he watched as a tear slid down my face. I wouldn't let him hug me, because if he did that, then it was real. This was just a blip in my grandmas life.

We've got time. We've got time. We've got time. 

She continued in and out of the hospital all this year and went into a care facility, where her health could be better managed. I tried to call as often as I could. It was such a hard year for everyone, it was hard to call her and see her on FaceTime and not be able to go and see her in person. It was hard to understand that this was life now, that I couldn't go to her house and see her. That I couldn't ask her to hang with the kids for an hour while I went to yoga. That I couldn't bring her Trader Joes coffee because that was her favorite. It was hard to understand and connect with the fact that I couldn't see this person who meant so much to me and understand that this was it. I didn't want to face the scary horrible unknown. My life, my kids' lives without my trusty Gma. 

My Grandma was not your typical Grandma. She wasn't squishy and warm and cuddly. She was the opposite, I never heard her say I love you to my brother or me until Chaz started demanding that she say it and hug him, which is like the best way to get someone to love you, right? She was surly and negative. She burned cookies, she burned cake, she burned toast. We had steak one night and no one could eat it because she cooked it so long it was like eating a shoe. To which she replied, "Well I want to make sure all the bacteria is cooked out of it!"  She hated elections because the commercials would be all over every tv station, she would mute the tv and then, in her chair, rock back and forth aggressively grumbling about how dumb the commercials were. She made sure to talk about how much she hated Facebook and the bitter rivalries between Seahawks and the 49ers would ensue between families up here and in California. Her blood would boil. Like, literally, boil. The doctor would tell her she wasn't allowed to look at the computer anymore because her blood pressure was too high. 

She was surly and negative and the perfect Gma for Chaz and I. I would spend weekends at her place in Lake City, in her little apartment. She would pick me up from school in Granite Falls and we would drive all the way back into Seattle, in her green honda. It was a dangerous game because driving with her was like playing slow moving car Russian Roulette. There was a lot of "Oh jeeze! That guy cut me off!" and you would look up and the car was one thousand feet in front her with their blinker on, driving normally or "Oh gee, let me over!" and the car behind was waving her over nicely, at a decent distance behind. We would somehow safely arrive at her house and pop over to Blockbuster video where at 4 years old the only movie I wanted to watch was Death Becomes Her. She would happily rent this inappropriate for a 4 year old movie and then we would pick out the best dinner treat of all time, the Kid Cuisine. Sitting there in my Grandmas apartment, eating my kid cuisine whilst watching Death Becomes Her with the sound of the sewing machine making me custom Barbie clothes in the background, was my safe place. The sounds of the city, my Grandmas sewing machine, her yellow chair squeeking as she rocked back and forth, her gently snoring at 7pm in the chair, the smell of the apple and cinnamon Kid Cuisine dessert, asking her if she wanted to play the animal sounds game at midnight snuggled up against her, this was my safe place. My Grandma was my safe space. She was there anytime I needed her. She never said no. Ever. If I wanted to lay on the couch all day, fine. If I wanted to go to the park and play, fine. If I wanted to eat baked oysters because I swear I love them and I wont puke at the restaurant, fine. She gave me space to be me. She gave me the opportunity to be me. There was never a time when I couldn't count on her. That continued into my teenage years and into my adult hood. 

I had a pretty rough childhood, from 10 until I moved out at 18. My parents divorced, which was fine, but they both made some choices that didn't really fit into a positive and supportive life for me. I lived with my Dad and had a very physically abusive Step Mother, and my mom kinda lived with her boyfriend sometimes and lived with my Grandma sometimes. It was hard to know where I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to do; how I was supposed to act. When my mom lived with my Grandma, my brother and I would sleep on the floor or on the couch at her house. I remember many times falling asleep with a gnarly hangover in front of her pellet stove. She would make sure that we ate until we were nauseous, she made sure that we had everything that we needed and that we were happy and comfortable. In my teen years, I would have people over to hang out at my Grandmas house. My boyfriend and all of my friends, just hanging at my Grandmas house. Like, who does that? Who, at 16, is like " Hey guys, come hang at GG's house! We can watch a movie with my Grandmother!" and everyone was super into it. Everyone wanted to hang out at Grandmas house. Her house was the meeting place for everyone, when I got kicked out of my house, I lived there. There wasn't any question, that I would just live there for a few weeks until I found an apartment. When I was pregnant, I lived there so I could save money. I went into labor at her house because Chaz told a stupid joke and she made a ridiculous comment and I laughed so hard my water broke. We were in the middle of moving when I had Steve and my clothes were at her house still, I asked her to bring me a bag. She packed me, pre pregnancy jeans and a thong. I had to go back to work 26 days after having Steve. I didn't even ask, she just watched him. She helped raise my son, and she did a very GG job of it. When we lived in Sedro Wooley and Charlie didnt have a license, she would get up at 5 am to go and pick up Charlie from the bus station and take him to work. No questions asked. There are countless stories of her selflessness. There are countless stories where she would just do. There was never a time that she didn't put others before herself. She was the rock solid, she was the meeting place, the safe place, she was the surly negative Matriarch of our family. She was epitome of everything we all needed. 

Watching her decline was excruciatingly painful. She lived with us for a little bit after she sold her house and it started very slow. One time she came home and there was an airplane overhead, "Is there an airport near here? Jeeze!" I responded "Yes, you know that! Gimme that bag, let me help you!" She started stating very obvious things and asking questions she already knew. She started to get frustrated because she couldn't remember things she already knew and she couldn't do things she had been able to do for so long. After we moved she went and lived with my mom for a few years and then my aunt. Seeing her was hard because she was so independent for so long, she did everything herself, she was whip smart and knew everything; she was very well read and could straight up murder any crossword puzzle. But in her later years, it was hard to not see the same person that was so sturdy and solid in my younger life. 

In December when she went into the hospital for the last time, I talked to her on Facetime. Looking up her nose and at various times seeing her forehead, was delightful. We chatted about life and I told her about my huge arm tattoo to which she was completely disgusted. I told her we had pulled Summer out of school and she was working at the shop with us and not doing math worksheets, again completely disgusted. Then at the end of the conversation, she yelled 'Sugar cookies! Are you making sugar cookies, I want some!" I made that woman the best damn sugar cookies I have ever made. I dropped them at the hospital for her along with a note. 

We've got time. We've got time. We've got time. 

She was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver and still I didn't think she would go. Still I figured she would be fine and that she would be back in the care facility again and that I would be able to see her in person in a few months. I just couldnt wrap my brain around her being gone. I couldnt think of a life without her. I couldnt fathom not having her available to me. 

I taught a Sunday morning yoga class and when I turned my phone back on, there were a bunch of missed phone calls and texts from family. My brothers sticks out the most "GG is in a bad way, get here." 

They had placed her on hospice and put her in another care facility. I went down there, not knowing what to expect. I was able to go to her window, outside looking in. 

I broke. Right there, at her window, my heart broke, my brain broke, my body broke. 

She was tiny in her hospital bed, hair shorn and grey. Her mouth open and eyes in and out of focus. I tried calling her, like my mom had requested, to no avail. I didnt try again. I just wanted to be there and not make her do anything. I just wanted to be there without any expectations from her. Without any needs. She had always made sure we were all taken care of, this was a time for her to rest. 

I got her attention and she smiled and I blew her kisses and shouted I love you and she blew kisses back. She fell asleep and I sobbed, openly, with my hand on the window. I cried so hard that my face and head hurt. I cried so loud that the nurse came outside and handed me a box of tissues. I let everything go in that moment, for her and for me. One by one family came to outside her window. One by one, we all cried in turn. My best friends came and sat vigil outside her window. The ones who used to willingly and happily hang out at her house in their teen years, when it was supposed to be uncool.

I needed to be alone, I went out on the paddle board and paddled with a trio of seals on the icy water at kayak point. I paddled hard and fast and tried to get the seals to climb aboard. I chuckled to myself knowing that she would hate that I was out on the water in the middle of winter, trying to get wild animals on my paddleboard. 

She died a few days later. 

I slipped my hand into hers and my mom whispered in my ear that she had just passed. My eyes flickered in shock. I kept my hand in hers and squeezed. I hugged Charlie and sat down. Everyone was telling stories and sharing details of her life that we all shared together. I just wanted to be alone. I left and went to yoga, where I muscled through everything and cried on my mat. I didnt want to believe that she was gone. I didnt speak about her for a few days. I didnt talk to my mom or my aunt, no matter how many times they had reached out. I didnt want to talk to my brother or Charlie. I just didnt want this to be real. I didnt want to face the fact that I wouldnt get a call from her demanding sugar cookies or hear stories that she was throwing things at the hospital door to get someones attention when she dropped the call button. I didnt want to be a soother for the family either. I didnt want to explain to my mom in my yoga voice that this is where all life leads and that she had a beautiful purposeful life. I wanted to punch a hole in the wall and ask why she didnt take better care of herself. I wanted to ask my Grandma why we didnt have more time like I thought we would. I wanted to be in her apartment watching her make me tiny Barbie clothes without a pattern and saying "Well Sara, I just dont know what this will look like." 

Chaz and I are getting tattoos in a couple days in honor of her, something that will be extremely cathartic for the both of us. Also, something that she would really, really frown upon and in that I take extreme rebellious pleasure. I can picture showing her the tattoos and her just being so hilariously disgusted and Chaz and I in riotous laughter at her reaction. 

Ill never be fully ok with the fact that my Grandma is gone and I cant count on her anymore, but Im so happy that she was able to spend so much time with me and my little family. That they were able to count on her and know what its like to have such a solid person that's always there, no matter the circumstance.