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hours once we got there, and then return home. We had
only two days of school scheduled that week, and then
Christmas break began. I would not be going to school at
all, of course, but he would finish out his two days.
Chapter 15
She did not even look like my mother. When I walked into
the room, the first thing that I noticed was how bloated her
face looked. Her breathing was very heavy, and it was sort
of frightening to me. "Honey, it is just the fluid that is in her
throat and lungs." My grandma was describing to me the
cause of the rattling sound from her breathing. I knew what
it was, though; I knew it was a `death rattle'. "Step out in the
hall with me, baby," she said. I motioned for Brett to come
with me, not wanting him to be left uncomfortably alone in
the room.
"She regained consciousness briefly when they moved
her. She asked for water." I nodded. "She was alert for
awhile when I came in; and she cried." My grandma was on
the verge of tears herself. "But she knows what is going on.
She knows that she is dying."
"Oh no," I gasped. "I did not want her to know. I did not
want her to be afraid."
"Honey, she is not afraid. Just sad. She is sad to be
leaving us, that's all." She had her hand on my face. "She
does not want the dialysis." Tears streamed down my face
as my grandma pulled me into her, holding me tight and
caressing the back of my head. "Listen to me though,
Sweetie, this is very important. We have to be strong for
your mom. We cannot fall to pieces."
"I know, Grandma. I will be strong." I wished that I'd had
half the strength that she did. She had lived through the
deaths of her husbands, her parents, and her eldest son;
and now she was losing her only daughter. I remembered
when my uncle had passed away. He was only thirty-six,
and died of a massive heart attack. My grandma, who had
always handled tragedy with such stoic grace, reacted to
the news of her son's passing with an outburst of mournful
sobs. I had never heard such anguish pour out of a human
soul. She later told me that losing a child was like losing a
piece of yourself; it was not right for parents to outlive their
own children.
Brett stood beside us, saying nothing, yet watching me
as I clung to my grandmother. I pulled away from her slowly,
turning to Brett. "I owe you so much for being here with me,
for going through this with me, Brett."
He shook his head. "You owe me nothing." My grandma
then reached out and took his hand.
"We do owe you. Thank you for everything. I am just so
sorry that this all has happened. You both are so young. You
should be out having fun, not in a hospital waiting like this."
"Grandma, Brett cannot stay for much longer. He is going
to go back home because he has to go to school in the
morning, but I am staying here with you."
"What about Erik? Did you get a hold of him?"
I shook my head. "No, but I did talk to my dad. I told him
about everything, and I left Erik a note to come to the
hospital."
"Is your father coming to see her?" she asked.
"He didn't say."
I wondered what my grandma actually thought about my
relationship with Brett. She never gave me any indication
that she suspected there was anything more between us
than just friendship. My grandma had always seemed to
possess this uncanny ability to know things about me
before I even knew them myself. What would she think of
me, though, if she actually found out that I'd been intimate
with Brett? I remembered her talking about a friend that she
used to work with who was lesbian. Her attitude was that it
used to work with who was lesbian. Her attitude was that it
did not matter to her, though she herself was in no way
interested in "getting into that." I did not ask her to specify
what "that" was.
At this point the only thing that really mattered was being
together for my mom and for each other. Brett's presence
was comforting to me and felt appropriate, though I
wondered if it would have been the same if the situation
were reversed and it were one of his parents who was
dying. I thought that I probably would have felt more like an
intruder than a bastion of support. Maybe it was due to the
fact that he represented unwavering strength to me. His
mere presence made me feel secure, less lonely, and
stronger.
The three of us went back into the hospital room
together, and I approached my mother's bedside for the
first time. Brett was by my side, though allowing me the
space I needed to approach her at my own pace. I
absorbed the details of her appearance, creating a mental
image that would remain burned in my memory for eternity. I
do not think that movies and books can ever accurately
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