by Rupert Flagg

Created on: June 10, 2009

There is no remembrance of earlier things; And also of the later things which will occur,
There will be for them no remembrance among those who will come later still.

My grandmother died when I was just turning 14. She had breast cancer that spread to her liver and back then all they did was give her something for the pain. She was in the hospital for a while, but she died at home. I shall never forget that day. It was hot and my cousins and I had gone down the street to pick blackberries. It was a large field so we hit the bottoms of the bushes with sticks to scare the snakes away. I stepped away for a moment trying to convince myself that the taste of those sweet dark berries would be cause enough for me to brave the thorns around them.

I stood looking at the ground and then up the street at the heat swimming up the road. It does that down south, you know, it appears to move like water.
As I watched it began to rise from the street and cover everything in its path, even the birds grew quiet. It continued to rise,even as the clouds covered the sun. I looked at everything around me, including my cousin, who was standing closest to me. The look on her face told me that was seeing what I was seeing and we started to run back up the hill towards the house. I could hear my grand-daddy screaming out my grand-mother's name. I heard him began to cry. I felt my heart become void of any feeling at all. I know now that I was on a kind of auto-pilot that lasted for almost two years. That's how long it took for me to realize that she was actually gone and I began to cry uncontrollably on my bedroom floor.
My grand mother and I had a different kind of relationship. I knew she loved me even though I do not remember her ever saying it. Honestly, I don't remember her ever saying she loved anyone. I just knew I didn't want her to die. I even made a deal with God, a stupid one, but a deal just the same.

I liked my life and my grandmother's death would change everything as I knew it and it did. I sometimes wonder what could have been if she'd lived. I know I'd have finished medical school. It was her way. But she died and my world spiraled out of control. I went to live with my mother because she thought my grandfather would molest me...huh?
All sorts of weirdness began to happen when she died. My aunt made every detail of the funeral hers, right down to what we wore and who carried her in as she screamed and wailed her way to her seat. Me, I focused on the cute new boy in the choir, "when did he get there?"
The whole scene played in front of me like a television show. People were crying. The church was packed. People hugged me and said things in a language I didn't understand. Numbness covered me, comforted me.
I don't remember going to the grave site. I know I did because it's tradition. I do remember however, that my aunt treated me like her very own Cinderella. I served the guests who stopped by to eat after the funeral. I did the dishes. I tucked in the little cousins who came with the big cousins for the funeral.
I sat down on the front porch, then I lay down on the cold concrete and fell asleep. No one missed me. No one shook me to wake me, so I could go to sleep in my bed. Something crawling on my face woke me up the next morning.
Some say that death is renewal. I've also heard that it is the end. Death changed my life into what it is now, well maybe not, but it was the catalyst.

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