Inevitability

Saturday afternoon, my family and I sat in the kitchen. We were having lunch and listening to music without a lot to think about. We were there about half an hour when I looked out the sliding doors that faced the nearby busy road. About 70 yards away there was a mass of emergency vehicles. I thought this was odd, to say the least, since I didn't hear sirens and we had been facing that window the whole time. We thought there must have been a car accident, but why didn't we hear the crash? I went outside to get a closer look (I'm one of those busy-bodies) and I saw a crowd of rescue workers in the ditch. A few minutes later, they pulled someone out on a stretcher and loaded them into the ambulance. Not long after, a tow truck pulled a mangled motorcycle out of the ditch while a police officer was talking to a man in a black truck. I pieced together what had happened. The black truck hit the motorcycle and both the bike and the rider were knocked into the ditch. The speed limit for that road is 45, so you can imagine the kind of damage it did.

I was really impacted by this whole scene. I kept thinking about that man in the ditch and his family. I wondered if he lived. I have been looking in the newspaper every day but there is no story about this. I am left to wonder. It made me think of loss and how my family has been very blessed to have dodged it thus far.

Flip forward two days. It is 10:30 pm and I am in bed doing a Sudoku. My cousin calls and opens with, "Did you hear Nanita (my grandma) is in the hospital?" No, I hadn't heard. It seems they found a brain tumor. To make a long story short, she will have brain surgery. She is 87-years-old, a very strong one, but 87 all the same.

At this news, the very foundation my family stands on has been rocked. My family is characterized by few men, many of them irresponsible, and strong women. Nanita takes care of all of us.

She lived with us when we were growing up and often watched 5 of us (including my cousins) together. I have wonderful, funny memories of her. When we were young, she would watch "All My Children" and "One Life to Live" everyday but we were not allowed to see it. We would sneak up the basement steps and crack the door to watch it. We would report what was going on. She would cook our food and wash our clothes. She taught us to speak Spanish.

When we were in junior high and high school, she would walk through the drive-thrus of the the fast food restaurants late at night and pick up the dropped change. This embarrassed us at the time. Then she would ask for help in counting her saved change and she would come up with hundreds of dollars. I can only smile when I think of it now.

I love that she loves the grocery store. She can often quote for you the price of the produce and any good sales they are having.

Two summers ago, I brought my two-month-old son home to Illinois to meet the family. He was uncomfortable until he met his great-grandmother. She held him, and he fell asleep; I couldn't believe it. He knew loving arms when he felt them.

Nanita loves the Lord. She prays fervently for her children and grandchildren often. She knows all the old hymns.

I have been going through these memories for the last 24 hours and I feel very sad. She is at home until Monday, when she will have brain surgery. I am not giving up hope on her at all, but your mind goes there when faced with this kind of serious situation. If she is gone, there will be a void the size of South America in our family. The glue will be gone; we will be pieces just floating around. As all of the grandkids are now grown, we look to each other with somber eyes. What if our whole world changes tomorrow?

While the loss of a grandparent is often seen as less serious to the outside world because it is expected, it is most serious to the individul experiencing the loss. To us it will be like losing a parent, a friend, a supporter, a constant force.

I will be praying for a miracle to save this person so dear to all of us. If the surgery is successful, that is a victory, but it might only be a matter of time after that.

Just last Saturday I sat there thinking of the fallen motorcyclist and his family. I had no idea that my own would be coming so soon. I guess that is inevitability...