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Her voice came to me,
a tender touch that I couldn't ignore. I sat with her at the
table, the angles of the room blurring away to blackness.
The rich, heavy smell of coffee startled me, but soon I accepted
that it belonged here, as much a part of this house as I ever
was. Grandpa's old green army blanket was rough under my stroking
fingertips. The blanket reminded me, "Is Dorothy coming over
to play Yahtzee?" I asked and then immediately regretted it.
Dorothy was too sick to come over anymore. That thought jangled
in my head, I knew something was wrong, I just couldn't pinpoint
it. Grandma never would cover the table with that blanket
unless there was going to be a Yahtzee game.
"Why?" she asked me, in
that sweet tone I loved so much. Her hand clasped mine, the
worn edges of her veins loose under my fingertips.
"I don't know Grandma,
I am not sure why." The answer was important, but I had a
hard time focusing on what she was asking.
"I am sorry I didn't
come more to visit you." I finally said, pulling my hand away
and rubbing it over my face. A deep, throbbing shame flared
up under her gentle gaze.
I could feel the disappointment
emanating from her. There had always been a truth between
us, something I felt like I was violating now.
How could I tell her the
I couldn't watch her vibrant colors flatten out and fade away,
bit by slow bit; dribbling onto a piece of paper that did
nothing more than proclaim her death?
"Grandma," I began as
tears softened the lines in her face, "I couldn't watch you
die." the whisper was pulled slowly out of me, aching against
the sides of my throat.
My thoughts stopped. She
shouldn't be here, I knew, and a surreal feeling swept over
me, tying my mind in knots. I was desperately trying to understand.
"Why?" I asked. "Why are
you here? I failed you."
She smiled, the tiny lines
around her mouth puckering, "Because I love you. But that
is not what I am asking. Why won't you forgive yourself?"
I reached out a trembling
hand to touch her face. "Because I love you. Because I am
ashamed." I answered.
"I love you too. Nothing
that you did or didn't do will change that."
Hher face broke apart
under my fingers, dissipating into nothingness while I sat
with the smell of coffee lingering behind.
©1998 Christie
Benson
Writings
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