Young Writers Society

A Matter Of Time

The following is a series excerpts from conversations with a psychiatrist who had private sessions with three members of one family. A mother, and her two children, one boy, and one girl.

Son: I have to be honest, I don't think that all of this is so bad. I don't even know why I am telling you. I've just been told that its bad by some friends.

Doing the math, I must have been on my bike heading back home, but what difference does it make really? My grandfather is dead and I can't bring him back. I'd like to say this all started a three to six months ago, but part of why I don't think its so bad is that is started a while before three to six months ago. He had been “circling the drain” as he liked to say for the better half of my life. He wasn't a fighter, I guess his illnesses just weren't fighters either.

Doing the math, I was with some friends at a pub downtown when he got the news. Liver and pancreatic cancer. He was given three to six months before his death.

Doing the math, I was shopping for dress shoes when it my mom got the news. My grandmother called. When my grandmother calls it is almost never good news. Not that she doesn't like my family, its just that there is always bad news about my grandfather.

Sorry, am I doing that thing you told me about? Where I repeat phrases to somehow distance myself from what is going on? Sorry.

Anyways, I finally got the news. My sister must have been told as soon as my mom knew, but I had been kept out of the loop. My friends were over at my house and my sister pulled me aside. She smiled. Kelsey knew something that I didn't. She said “Jason, did you hear that grandpa is dying? He has cancer.” She is still smiling. “He has about six months to live.” She stopped smiling. Gave me a serious look, and turned away. She went back to her room and I went back to my friends. I told them she was telling me about her latest math test because that's all it felt like. They do say that the first stage is denial.

Kelsey didn't tell my mom what she told me. Or maybe she did. All I know is that when I asked my mom for a coke, she brought it to me and added “So your grandma called this morning. Grandpa James has cancer. He is going to die in three to six months.” And then she turned around walked back into the kitchen before I could say anything. I didn't really plan on saying anything, I just sat there acting shocked and dismayed, but a hug would have been customary.

Is it really so strange? I mean, I barely knew the man. It was like hearing that a cashier at your local Tesco was had cancer and wouldn't be showing up anymore.

Starting around two months after my grandfather was diagnosed, I read his local paper's obituary section online. Yesterday they printed that he had died. I don't think that I'm supposed to know yet. Tomorrow my dad is going on a business trip

to New York. No. Really, he is going to Texas to sort out the will.

I told Kelsey last night when our parents were out to dinner. I couldn't cry, but it felt good to see her cry. I think that was one of those things that defines a relationship. I hope.

Mother: Jason worries me. The black clothing. People will think he is depressed or in mourning. Well, of course he IS, that's why I pay you, but people don't need to know. What is he depressed about anyways? Oh never mind, of course you can't say. He never talks to me. Ever since maybe 7th or 8th grade. Not about anything but his grades and politics. I don't even know who is friends are.

Don't tell me I'm a bad mother. Why would you say that? Just because I don't have the perfect relationship with my son? We have a great relationship. Sure there are bumps, but there are bound to be bumps. He's a teenager. Okay so I know you never said outright I was a bad mother, but you were thinking it.

In other news, the kid's grandfather, Nick's father, he died about a week ago. I've drafted my kids an email, and I'll send it before I go to my girl's weekend on Friday.

He died of cancer. Nick's taking it well enough. Honestly, I never really knew or liked James. He wasn't very well groomed. The kids never spent much time with him, but the time they did spend, I don't think they enjoyed. I think they'll take this okay.

Daughter: So I have a choir concert next week. I've even got a solo. I'm nervous. But my Grandpa is gonna be watching. He died last week. Don't tell my mom that I know. Jason told me. Our parents haven't told us yet.

When Jason told me, it was after dinner. He made pasta. He always makes pasta because he can't cook. I sort of already knew that he was dead because I felt it in my heart the night he died. Jason wanted me to cry. He doesn't love Jesus. My mom and I, we know that its okay when people die because God sends them to heaven. Jason doesn't know. So we pray for him and for grandpa.

But anyways. Jason told me, and he wanted me to cry. So I gave him a hug, turned down the tv and cried for him. On the inside I smiled. My grandpa could finally be happy. The pain of this life had weighed him down. Now he is free.

So Sunday night I'm going to be singing for him.

-one month later-

Son: So I went to Tulsa last week. It was another one of those experiences that changes relationships. You know how most people never have a relationship with their grandparents besides both sides just being super nice to each other. Do you really think that your grandmother keeps chocolates in her purse when you aren't around? Does she really think you wear a polo to school every day? No. But this is the relationship that you have built, and you have to live with it. Until that gets shattered. I went to Tulsa with my mom. Just for two days. We got in late on Sunday night. I never like Tulsa, but for some reason I like the airport. The cleanliness maybe. I bought a mug there.

The real purpose of the trip was to see how my Grandma was doing and visit, but we covered that purpose with a lot of shopping when we saw her on Monday. We bought some dress pants for me and wondered around the mall for a while.

Then we went to dinner with my cousins. Technically I have no relation to them. My “Grandfather” was really my Step-Grandfather. I called him James in my head, and just avoiding using his name in sentences. In my opinion, with him gone, there was little reason to stay in touch.

After dinner, we went to my step-cousin's house and watched the slide show that was shown at my Grandfather's funeral.

The next day, my mom and I stopped at Best Buy for a dvd player. We thought my grandmother should have one. When we got there, my grandmother was rearranging furniture. We helped, and set up the dvd player. Soon, it was the afternoon and we had to leave.

I never knew that my grandmother loved James. Well, I mean, sure they were married, but I never saw her display any special affinity for that guy who had practically melded into the chair closest to their television. I never really wanted to think about. I mean, I had always preferred either of my real grandfathers to James. Then James died. Like I've said before, I didn't really even take notice.

Before we left, my grandmother showed me an album of letters to my step grandfather that everybody his family, even my dad, had written him. I hadn't heard about this project. They were a gift for his last birthday. Everybody wrote their 10 favorite things about James. My grandmother was so proud of the book. And she would just get so teary-eyed when she talked about him. I just hadn't ever seen her like that. Even though it was the exact behavior that anybody would expect. I didn't know how to act. That was when I cried. I mean, James had been so good to her. My real grandfather had been an alcoholic. James was a good man. And he had made her happy.

She hugged me when we said goodbye. Like grandmothers do. She didn't want me to leave. When would she see me again? It had been a year since my last visit. It could be another before my next. She looked at me, and started crying again. She is a frail woman, but I couldn't have escaped her arms if I had wanted to. All those barriers and charades with chocolates in purses and polo shirts went out the window. She just wanted me to stay. I still don't feel much for James' death, but I feel guilty when I think of my grandmother alone in that apartment with her dvd player. Does that count for something?