voicememo to grandma, #1
I wanna call you so bad. Itâs a Saturday afternoon. Itâs 3:22.Â
I did take you for granted. All those many afternoons that I couldâve been with you. The afternoons now that I could be by your graveside. But I think of you every day.Â
While we were driving to the church, or maybe from the churchâI donât rememberâmom gave me the ring you wore, the ring you were wearing when you passed away. I remembered the ring very well; I had spent a lot of time just holding your hand, because I didnât know what else to do. I liked to hold your hand and to be gentle and soft with you, because I resisted that softness during my life and I wanted to show you that I could give you the gentle touch you needed even if it was not first-nature to me. I liked to make you laugh, and Iâm so happy I did -- I got to make you laugh until the day you died.Â
I would lean over and say something so dirty, or inappropriate, or ridiculous in your ear, and you would turn and look up at a me with your big eyesâand they were magnified by your glassesâand your lips would be pursed with a smirk. You acted shocked, but you loved it. Because you loved to be outrageous. Â
I think one of the most real conversations we ever had was during a fight, and in a way I feel lucky that I knew you long enough to fight with you. I told you that you didnât understand why I was dating that recovering heroin addict, because you had just married grandpa due to social pressures. And it was one of the few times I heard you get tough. You said, "You donât know anything about why I married your grandfather. I love your grandfather and weâve made our marriage work.âÂ
I knew you had been in love with a man who treated you beautifully, but it didnât work out because you were blind and his mother thought that was a deficit. And he later died. And things with grandpa werenât perfectâit wasnât the kind of marriage that maybe someone nowadays would continue. But you loved your kids, and you loved your family, and above all else, you had an obligation so strong to serve them that you would suffer for them. And I think that was maybe your greatest pride. And itâs easy to dismiss that now in a world where women donât have to suffer in that same way, necessarily.
But that moment showed me what you cared to fight for. You were not as simple as you let on. I wish you wouldâve admitted that to me, and I guess in a way you did when you gave me advice. You always told me, âDo it yourself. Be independent, do it youself, do not rely on a man.â You told me that you regretted marrying someone so much older than you because it meant that he was aging out of the interests you were at the peak of appreciating. He didnât want to go on trips, and I think thatâs age but also personality, and most of all, I think it was a byproduct of the trauma of the war he experienced.Â














