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THE WIND PHONE
Death Caught Me Off Guard
But isn’t that how it always goes?
No matter how ill you know someone is or how frail they looked when you visited them last, that out-of-the-blue phone call never fails to steal the ground from under your feet.
“I thought she had more time,” you think. And then you realize, selfishly, that you thought you had more time. To let her know you love her. To say goodbye. To share one last memory that will stay with you forever.
When mom called to say Grandma had passed, I couldn’t believe my ears. When my boyfriend came over after the funeral, that was exactly what I told him as I sobbed into his arms, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Losing your last grandparent is like a gut punch. It’s a milestone from which there’s no turning back. Every death reminds us of our mortality, but with this one, the circle of life is just shoved onto your face unceremoniously. I no longer have grandparents. My parents are aging; their hair is white. They’re next. And after my parents, there’s me.
It’s no wonder I didn’t want to believe it.
Grandma had been ill for months, and we knew it was coming. My mother was taking care of her. I helped with little things here and there, including ordering supplemental vitamins she had to…