These were the ominous words that greeted us at every visit to my Grandma Mabel’s place.
She had been dying since I was a little kid in the early nineteen sixties. I would stay at her house with my brothers and we would be solemnly informed of her impending demise at the beginning of every visit. There were times that I believed her predictions, especially when she fell asleep in the armchair while watching the television. Her head would be leaning forward with the mouth hanging open, minus dentures of course, along with half opened glazed eyes just staring blankly at the screen.
“Hey guys! I think she’s dead!” one of us would exclaim.
We would gather around her and stare wide eyed while wondering if this was really “it”. Pretty soon an eye would flutter followed by a reassuring snore or two and we would relax again.
Grandma Mabel didn’t achieve her goal until the year 2000 at the ripe old age of 92. She outlived her son by six years and probably robbed us of twenty.
Of course, grandma was an expert of the things that you could die from. Why just sleeping on the floor could result in your untimely demise from the ever present “drafts” that lurked around my grandma’s place, searching for an unsuspecting youth to kill.
She would eagerly read every letter from every old friend, searching for the latest tragic death to talk about. She was always getting new fatal diseases and would relate all the symptoms to any unfortunate soul that was with in earshot. She was the busiest dying person I ever knew. She always had to know what was going on, who was doing what, and why in the world had they not invited her!
When she was 83 years old my father had sold her car while she was visiting friends in southern California. She was getting to be a hazard to all life on the roads of Sacramento. My children finally refused to ride with her and these kids were the most fearless riders of the most death defying contraptions at the amusement parks.
“She only goes two speeds Dad! On and off!” they would tell me after she would drop them off at home.
My youngest was impressed because “grandma doesn’t even have to look when she turns”.
After my parents died grandma’s care fell to me and my older brother David and our wives. We would take turns picking her up to go to the store or for the meetings she attended with us at the Kingdom Hall.
Whenever we would return her to her home she would, as always, inform us that she was sure she wasn’t going to survive the night. Once my brother Dave was with me when she made the usual announcement and Dave turned to me and said,
“I get her T.V.!”
“I get her microwave!” I replied.
Grandma would just screw her wrinkled face up into a disgusted look as we shamelessly mocked her impending departure from the land of the living.
The next day, when I would pick her up I would teasingly greet her with:
“What are you doing here? I thought you would be dead!”
She would respond with her patented pinched face of disgust and proceed to inform me of the latest malady taking its toll on her. She was actually very good natured and I like to think she actually appreciated our warped sense of humor. She just hid it well with a perfect imitation of an irritated sand crab, all tough on the outside and scurrying around with pinchers raised, but soft and sweet on the inside. You just had to boil them well first.
Grandma almost achieved her dream in 1998. She came down with pneumonia and had to be rushed to the hospital. The doctor came out to us and asked us if we wanted them to put her on a respirator as she was having difficulty breathing. He informed us that without it she would surely die and that even with the respirator she might not survive. We opted to give it a try and were shocked to see an alert and smiling Grandma Mabel when we entered her room the next morning. She was breathing on her own and made a rapid recovery. As we left the hospital I noticed a few hostile looks directed at me and my brother from our wives and some of the kids as they were sure it was our fault that grandma had not achieved her lifelong goal.
It was two years later, after her 92nd birthday that the doctor informed her of the rapidly progressing cancer that was going to end her life in “about two weeks”. Grandma was ecstatic and happily moved into my home to await the final frontier.
When we got her settled I offered her a glass of good wine but she said she shouldn’t.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because the doctor said wine may slow down my breathing” she replied.
“And the problem is?” I asked as I smiled at her and held out the glass of fine wine.
She smiled back and said “Yes, I’d love a glass of wine!”
To this day we still have the picture of a smiling Grandma Mabel sitting on our couch holding up a glass of red wine.
The doctor however proved that he was just “practicing medicine” as she survived almost a full month until she passed away in her sleep. During this time, she changed into a sweet little old lady, we, of course, were immediately suspicious.
One day it started raining and grandma asked me to take carry her out to see it. I’m sure we made an interesting sight sitting in a chair in the rain with grandma in my lap while holding an umbrella over us but the contented smile on her face was well worth the effort.
The last few days she was rather incoherent and reverted back to the irritated sand crab mode but it would not have been the same if she hadn’t. She greatly enjoyed the attention and care she received those last few weeks of her life from her little grandson and his family. The kids would take turns caring for her and the pleasant sibling banter would go like this;
“Marisa! Grandma’s boob is hanging out of the bottom of her gown again! Come tuck it back in!”
”No!” would be the reply “I did it last time, you do it!”
Grandma would meanwhile be blissfully unaware of her wardrobe malfunction and be thoroughly enjoying the show.
One particularly difficult night I had stayed up with grandma all night long as she needed regular pain medication.
“I’m uncomfortable!” she yelled at me in the morning.
Due to the fact that I hadn’t had any sleep and had a busy day at work ahead of me I was less than patient and replied “Grandma, you’re dying, what do you expect?”
“Oh” she replied “that’s right, sorry dear” as I repositioned her in the bed.
She didn’t take offence at my blunt statement and seemed to smile to herself as she realized once again that she was living her dream.