Wake me if you're out there.

I wrote this for a Creative Non-Fiction class I took about a year ago, about my grandfather and his battle with lung cancer, along with a taste of my experience in California :) It was a very important event in my life and I hope that shows through my writing. Feedback is always welcome :) xx E.R.V.

I woke up one exceptionally hot morning in July of 2011, sunlight peeking through the breaks in the long curtains, and it took me a moment to realize where I was. It was the unusually hot air that reminded me.

My mother and I had arrived at my grandparents’ house in California yesterday afternoon, after a four hour drive through the Mojave Desert from Las Vegas. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I was amazed by the scenery, how different it was from New England, how it changed from the bright, sparkling lights of Vegas, to the plainness of the dry desert with nothing to look at but distant mountains and Joshua trees, to the rolling green hills of California near where my grandparents lived. Everything was so different, and it was breathtaking.

My entire life, I’d wanted to visit the Golden State. My mother had grown up there, and my grandparents had lived there the majority of their lives. I’d always felt a kind of connection to it, and now, I was finally here.

Though not for the reason I’d always envisioned.

One evening about a fortnight previous, I’d come home from an uneventful day at work to see my parents sitting at the kitchen table, in the middle of what I sensed was a rather tense conversation.

“What’s going on?” I’d asked, without saying hello.

“Come sit down.” 

S**t, I thought. The only time they ever asked me to “come sit down” was when they’d found out about something stupid my brother or I had done. What can they be mad about?

“Yeah?” I asked cautiously, sitting down beside my mom and looking between her and my dad.

“So, I talked to Nana a little while ago,” my mother began.

For some reason, my heartbeat began to accelerate. “Okay…”

“She went to the doctor with Grandpa today, and….”

“And?” I asked, a slight edge to my voice. My mouth had now gone dry and I felt that tingling sensation you get when you’re anxious.

“They found a spot on Grandpa’s lung,” my mother said.

She paused, watching my reaction, but it was as though my brain had gone numb and wasn’t understanding anything properly. I knew what she had said, but it didn’t seem real. And then I had to ask the inevitable question.

“Is it cancer?” The words had barely left my mouth when she answered, as if she knew I was going to ask.

“Yes. But there is a bright side. The doctors said it’s just a small spot and they should be able to remove it. He’s having the surgery in three days, but he’ll be in the hospital for awhile.”

“Okay,” I said simply.

“And also,” she said with a slight smile, “you and I are going to visit them. I already bought the plane tickets, we’re leaving in two weeks.”

She watched me as the smile spread across my face.

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously.”

I was ecstatic. This was a dream come true for me. However, in the back of my mind, I was still anxious. I felt guilty. Since my grandparents lived across the country, we only saw them about once a year, if we were lucky. I emailed my Nana quite often, but my Grandpa didn’t use the computer, and he was very hard of hearing so I hardly ever spoke to him on the phone.  And as much as I didn’t want it to, the word cancer kept repeating itself in my brain…I immediately felt regret, as though over all these years I should have kept in better touch with him.

On the other hand, I was able to keep a shred of hope. The doctors said it was a small spot, and they’d be able to remove it fairy easily. I comforted myself with this thought, and instead focused on how exciting it was that I’d finally be going to California.

          * * *

Now, I sat up in bed, opened the curtains behind me, and stared around the room. The sun illuminated the paintings on the walls, which were all done by my Nana, each reflecting a small part of her life, like little pieces of her personality. I just looked at them for a few moments before a knock on the door interrupted me, and the door opened. It was my mom.

“Morning, Em,” she said. “We’re going to visit Grandpa soon, start getting ready.” She left me with an apprehensive feeling. I didn’t like hospitals to begin with, and though I was excited to see my Grandpa, I felt nervous as well, though I’m not sure why. I guess it was because he had recently had his surgery, and, deep down, I was scared to see what he looked like, unsure what to expect.

Within an hour we were at the veterans’ hospital, sitting next to my Grandpa in his room he shared with two other people. When we walked in, he was sitting in a chair next to the window in his hospital clothes, one leg crossed over the other as he stared down his nose through his oversize glasses at the crossword in his lap. He had always been tall and thin, but at first sight I could immediately tell he was a lot thinner than usual. When he saw us, his eyes lit up and he put down the crossword and stretched his arms out like a child. 

“Hi Dad,” my mom said hugging him, as my Nana went to stand beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing just fine,” Grandpa said with a smile, and it was quite evident how happy he was that we were here. “Surgery went well, now just waiting for this guy to heal,” he said, smiling, his hand over his ribs to indicate his lung. I noticed a small machine on the floor next to him, with a tube coming out of it, snaking up under his shirt. There was a reddish, foamy substance moving down the tube, into the thing on the floor. I guessed it was draining fluid out of the lung. Gross.

“Emmy!” he said suddenly. “Come here kiddo.” 

I moved forward to hug him, trying to hide the look on my face when I felt just how skinny he was. I stepped back and just observed him as he and my mother and Nana made small chat. On top of just looking very thin and fragile, his face, once full and bright, now looked 
slightly sunken and hollow. His skin was lighter and his eyes looked heavy, as though he hadn’t been sleeping well. Even his silver beard looked thinner. It was strange to me that he, as such a strong and powerful person throughout his life, was now reduced to a helpless and frail old man. It was not at all the Grandpa I had been used to my entire life. I felt a sudden surge of affection and pity for him, wishing with all my heart that he did not have to go through this.  I stole a glance at my Nana who was standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder, staring at him with what I can only describe as a look of deep love and affection, which only made my feeling worse. 

“How’d school go, Emmy?” he asked me, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Oh…it went well,” I said. “Happy it’s summer though,” I smiled.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, making him look years younger, like the healthy Grandpa I liked to remember.

Conversation between us continued for about an hour, until Grandpa started looking tired again, and Nana suggested he go to sleep and assured him we’d be back tomorrow.

Over the next few days, my mom and I planned a few trips around the hospital visits. We went to San Diego, Hollywood, Santa Monica, and Palm Springs, and I was mesmerized by everything: the palm trees standing tall, swaying lazily, the sizzling sun beating down on us, and the breeze that was always warm, even when the sun set. I loved taking pictures of the famous skylines, and the stars on the Hollywood walk of fame that bore names like Big Bird and Snow White. I was captivated by the rolling green mountains that surrounded us, as well as the deep blue sky that stretched on for miles, and the way the Pacific ocean always looked so inviting as it sparkled under the sun.

I was also intrigued by the attitudes of the people here. They all seemed so…happy. I mean, truly, genuinely happy, laid back, unworried. I admired it. And, being surrounded by all this, I couldn’t help but feel an inner bliss that gave me hope Grandpa was going to be okay. He had a rough road ahead, I knew, but he’d make it out of this. There’s no reason he shouldn’t, I thought.

                          * * *    

One day, a few days before we’d be heading home, my mother and Nana went out together to run a few simple errands, and I stayed home with Grandpa who had been discharged from the hospital the day before. 

The two of us sat in the living room together, not speaking much. I ignored the Harry Potter book in my lap, and just watched him as he sat in his favorite chair, doing the crossword again, with his walker perched next to him should he need it. He looked peaceful. This was what had always amazed me about Grandpa; he could be in the midst of a terrible situation, and still find a way to be happy. He had an ability to accept the fact that this was happening, and deal with it accordingly, rather than wish it wasn’t happening. He would never complain, never feel self pity, but just deal with each situation the way it presented itself. I figured he’d learned from fighting in Vietnam that this was the only way to live. I realized in that moment that that was how I wanted to be.

“Emmy, do you mind filling this with Sprite?” Grandpa asked, breaking the silence and handing me a mug from the side table next to him.

“Of course,” I said, setting down my book and taking the mug. As I walked away into the kitchen, he said,

“You know, I’m so happy you and your mother are here.” 

My heart melted.

“I am too,” I said, handing him the mug and sitting back down. “I’m glad we were able to come.”

“Yes, well, you think you’re thrilled to be here,” he said, “but when I saw you walk through the doors of that hospital room, I was just so happy. The fact that you made the trip all the way out here, for me….” He broke off.

“Of course, Grandpa! It’s not even a question. We wanted to come.” 

“Your mother is the only one of the four kids who keeps in touch on a regular basis,” he continued, as though he’d always wanted to say this to me. “Always sending cards and letters and thank you notes, emailing pictures of you and your brother. And I’m so grateful that we got to see you and Zack grow up, and be a part of your lives. And that I have you here in the middle of this….” He paused. “Your grandmother has been amazing too.  I still wake up, even after forty years, and I get butterflies in my stomach when I hear her walking down the hallway, knowing I married the love of my life.” 

I had no words in response to this little monologue so I just got up and hugged him, trying to stop the tears from stinging my eyes.

Again, I found myself amazed at his perseverance, and the fact that, even though he was dealing with cancer, on top of all his other ailments, on top of being in the hospital off and on, on top of suffering mentally and physically from having fought in the war, he could still see the sheer beauty life had to offer.

    *       *             *

The next few days flashed by too quickly, and before we knew it, my mother and I had packed all our things, made the four hour drive back through the desert to Vegas, and were on our flight back home. I spent the majority of the flight just thinking inwardly, staring at the heaven outside my window. The sun shone on the clouds, making them glow pearly white, as they stretched on for miles beneath us. Every so often I could see the ground miles below through the sea of white. It was surreal, and beautiful. Again, the sight filled me with joy, and I felt that everything was going to be okay. Grandpa would fully recover from his operation, he’d be back home with my Nana again, and they could continue traveling and planning different trips, as they loved to do.

                                             *                   *             *

One night about two months later, my mother and I were sitting on the couch in the living room, just chatting, when she received a frantic phone call from my Nana.

“We’re losing him!” Nana said hysterically as soon as my mother answered the phone. I could hear her strained voice through the receiver and fear flooded me. 

“Mom!” my mother was saying. “Mom, slow down, what’s going on?”  She ran into her room, leaving me on the couch, stunned. 

What was going on? I thought the surgery had been successful. I thought he was okay, and he was recovering well. What had happened? What had gone wrong? 

We’re losing him! We’re losing him! We’re losing him!

Nana’s words echoed in my head and I couldn’t get them to stop. Tears immediately stung my eyes and began to cascade into my lap. I got up and went outside, walking up the street to clear my head.  When I came home, my mom was on the computer looking at plane tickets. I knew this was serious.

“What happened?” I asked tentatively.

“Grandpa is in the hospital again,” she said distractedly. She sounded as though she had a cold - she had been crying. I wiped my own eyes again.

“What happened?” I asked again, more urgently.

“I guess he went back in for a follow-up appointment, and they found what they thought could be more cancer in his lung…they recommended he do radiation and chemo, but his body wasn’t handling it well…with everything else he has wrong….” She broke off, her voice shaking. “They’re trying to fix it though.”

I felt like she was saying this to calm me down but we both knew it was no good.

I went back to my room and began pacing.

Please let Grandpa be okay, I thought desperately. Please let him get through this. Let him know I love him. We all do. He doesn’t have to go yet. Nana needs him. 

I collapsed on my bed, fully clothed, and fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning my mother left for California to be with my Nana. We all somehow knew what was going to happen but no one voiced it. It all happened so suddenly I don’t think we knew how to react, or what to say to one another.

A few days passed, and through hurried phone conversations with my mother, I gathered that Grandpa was still in the hospital, and declining. Four days after my mother arrived in California, she called me on her way home from the hospital and informed me they were bringing Grandpa home by ambulance, and hospice was going to stay with him until….

“Okay,” was all I could get out, and I hung up before she could say more. I lay down in silence, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. 

The next day was cloudy and grey, completely imitating my mood. I went to school and work without even really paying attention to anything, as though I was in a dream.  That night, I got the call from my mother that Grandpa had passed. He had been at home, in his bed, with my Nana holding his hand, and had gone peacefully. But I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t say anything. I just passed the phone to my brother, and went out onto the deck, staring into the trees, and up at the sky, which was still grey, threatening more rain.

I need a sign, I thought. Show me you’re okay. I love you.

I didn’t necessarily expect anything to happen. I said it more out of desperation, a last minute plea. But as I stared into the sky, the clouds began to clear, just a little. A hole opened up in the middle of the grey mass to reveal a brilliant red and pink sunset. The light shone through vividly, and I knew it was for me. Grandpa saying goodbye. A smile and a wave. A thank you. An “I love you.” And at that moment, I felt peace. I knew he was happy now, he wasn’t trapped in a sick body anymore, and he was still here. But he was free.

Author's Note

What can I improve on? Can you relate to this? How did this make you feel? Did you like this?