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Phyllis
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Phyllis |
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Honeybee Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-26
Posts 5372Ontario, CANADA 
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*This was originally an assignment for my Writer's craft class; we were asked to write a family parable, we could write about anything that we felt had a life lesson to it, a story that we would pass on to our children about our family. PHYLLIS As a child, I always hated my middle name, so unoriginal, so old-fashioned and so uncool. I remember thinking to myself "all the cool kids have beautiful and some of them have exotic middle names," but look at mine, Phyllis. I remember complaining to my Mom about my middle name; criticizing her for choosing such a name, not understanding it's value. Phyllis was my Grandma's name. I used to always call her Groovy Granny, it made her feel special, I adored her. I am sure that she adored me too. The name was fine for my Grandma, old-fashioned, sophisticated and dignified. It suited her, she was one of the most intelligent and caring people I knew. She was everything to me. Still, I hated the name. Phyllis did not suit me. I was a jokester, I was rambunctious, I was just a little kid, and most importantly I was part of the popular crowd. Everyone used to ask "what's your middle name?" The other girl's middle names were cool...Lisa, Samantha, Jessica, anything was better than mine. I could not avoid the question, "mine was Phyllis," the plain and boring Phyllis. The girls would laugh, my friends tried not to laugh. They soon forgot, I didn't. It bothered me. I never told my Grandma that it bothered me; it would hurt her too much. She lived alone, my Grandfather died a few years before I was born. She suffered from severe diabetes and found it difficult to walk, she never went out much. I loved her, but, I was a child...a teenager, more aware of my friends and Nintendo. My family and I tried to visit her as often as we could. Still, I felt guilty, I knew she was lonely. As a teenager, when I wasn't on the phone with my friends, or at the shopping mall, I would phone her, bring her flowers and write letter to her. I did everything that I possibly could to make her feel special. The conversations on the phone were interesting, but, so very long. "Did you watch the A & E biography on William Shakespeare, Melissa? Did you watch the fascinating program on ancient Egypt? Have you ever read poetry by Emily Dickinson, she's my favourite poet, you know?" Who is Shakespeare? Who cares about pyramids? And poetry, boring! How will Shakespeare help me in purchasing that skirt that I wanted at the mall. How will poetry impress my friends and peers. Granted, my Grandma was sweet, humourous and had childlike qualities, but, her stories...I heard them all one hundred times over and over again. She needed to feel important. I humoured her, it was good to hear her voice. But, I was a teenager, I didn't care about the past. It wasn't at the top of my list of priorities. And boy, oh boy, was she ever stubborn, feisty and strongwilled; and yes, she and I would disagree sometimes, but, I wouldn't have changed a thing about her. When I was a child she used to watch me for my parents on special occasions. Although she was often tired and in pain, she made sure that I watched Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow and other programs that taught children. She tried to teach me Spanish, German and French. It was interesting, but, I wanted to play. I remember one day, when I was in grade eight, I called her on the telephone and told her that I was studying the Canadian heroine Laura Secord in History class. "Do you know who your Mom was named after?" she asked. "Laura Secord." I learned a little about my family history that day. With excitement, she further told me that Laura Secord was my third Great Grandmother or my third Great Aunt, she couldn't exactly remember. My Grandma's parents were American and were related to the Ingersoll's (Laura Secord's maiden name). The Loyalists fled the United States into Upper and Lower Canada (now Ontario) when the Americans gained independence from Britain. Laura Ingersoll Secord and her husband were Loyalists and fled to Upper Canada. The famous story of Laura Secord, she told me, was not exactly true. Indeed, Laura Secord overheard the American General's plans to take over Upper Canada during the war of 1812. But, Canadian General Fitzgibbon somehow already knew about the American's plans before Laura Secord warned him, with the help of the Indians by her side; and the American invasion was stopped. Laura Secord's loyalty to British North America (later Canada) was proved, considering she was a former American. My Mom's name actually had meaning. I would always remember that day, for, I am a proud Canadian. I got older, I reached bitter"sweet sixteen." On June 15, 1996, when I was in grade eleven, my Grandma passed away. I remember visiting her in the hospital the very last time before she died. She had such a tortured look on her face from the pain and loss of her left leg that was amputated weeks before. I was helpless like she was, I could not do anything to save her. She looked like a robot hooked to machines, fighting for her life, but, losing. The woman who loved me unconditionally, the woman who was strong - a fighter, who was sweet and intelligent, who enjoyed life and learning; the woman who believed in miracles, the woman who was my friend was dying before my eyes. I remember holding her cold, fragile hand, but, I could not find the words "I love you" in my voice...I was paralyzed. Near the end, the very last words I left her with were "don't leave me, I need you." Although she was just an empty shell with a machine breathing for her, a small raindrop tear fell slowly down her left cheek. She left me the next day - the very thing I feared most. After the emptiness and anger temporarily ceased I was left with the question why? Why did she have to die? Yes, she was elderly, but, not nearly old enough to become just another statistic for the diabetes and cancer association. She suffered for a long time, it was inevitable, but, you're never really prepared for a loved one's death. As silly as it sounds, I just thought that she would always be there for me. It's still hard to accept the reality of losing her. It's like a piece of your heart is gone and it will never come back. I kept myself busy when she died. I cried just once on the day that she died and then turned my heart into stone. But, it was the solitude that made it hurt the most. If only I had said "I love you" the night before she died, if only I had written her more letters, if only I had visited her more often, if only I had more picnics with her, if only I had just done more. But, the what ifs, the if onlys, the could haves and the should have beens will only stop me from healing. I hid my tears and my pain until the day when the reverend gave the eulogy and called her Groovy Granny - for me. A neverending ocean of tears drowned my face. I changed. I grew up. After the eulogy, Unforgettable by Nat King Cole was played...for her. And she is unforgettable in every way; she is an irreplacebale friend. Most of all, I'm afraid that I'll forget her gentle smile, her laugh, her voice, the way Dolley Wilson sounded when he sang "As Time Goes By" when my Grandma and I watched Casablance together; the way her hair would shine like moonlight on water and the way her eyes would sparkle and twinkle like a thousand candles when I visited her and hugged her. I miss the smell of her perfume, I even miss the taste of the chinese food and the minced hamburger patties that she made especially for me when I was a little girl. But, I don't want to let her go. She'll never see me graduate, she'll never see me get married and she'll never she my children. All the milestones in my life she will never be apart of. You never stop loving a person after they have died. In fact, you try to find ways to love them even more. I respected her, she was my mentor, she was my friend, she had a heart of gold. I am proud to have been her Grandaughter. Now that I am a little wiser, a little more mature, I appreciate the finer things in life, rather than just the red sweater at the mall. I appreciate the works of Shakespeare, and I love poetry. I watch A&E, TLC, The History Channel and other similar networks. My Mom was named after a great woman, I was too. Once in a while, I am asked what my middle name is. Without hesistation, I proudly say "Phyllis, that's my Grandma's name." I long for yesterday when I listened to her long stories, felt her sweetness and her love, and I long for our special handshake..anything, even if just for a moment. All I have left are memories, they seem like yesterday and yet, so long ago. I have her name, but, God has her. I realize just how beautiful her name is. Every once in a while I forget, and I pick up the phone to call her, then I remember she's gone. By Melissa Phyllis |
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| © Copyright 2000 Melissa P. Long-Monette - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Sorry.. just have to dry my eyes.. Oh my, what a wonderful, sweet story. The love you have for your grandma must be a tremendous thing. Beautiful writing, poignant, and a great ending. One thing I think might be a good idea is breaking up some of the bigger paragraphs, it would make it easier to read . (Sorry to steal your remark Chris  )Excellent Melissa, From now on I'll be hopping to see your posts! A writer's soul is on paper etched. In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. -- Abrahm Simons |
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
Melissa, Very wonderful story. It's not too often that I read about someone's loved one that has passed away. It is a very tragic thing to loose someone so close to you. Thanks for sharing your story with us. Cassie |
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
I lost my grandmother when I was 24. she was everything to me that yours was to you. She saw my married and she was the first (other then myself and my husband) to hold my first child. She lives always in my heart and she sits beside me everyday. You never really lose those that mean that much to you. You will always have her in your heart and in your dreams. If you ever need her, meet her in your dreams. Talk with her and hold her hand. Tell her that you love her even though she doesn't need to hear the words. She knows and always did. You see we become wiser as we age and we do not need the words from those who do not know how to say them, for our hearts always know. Now that I have rambled with tears in my eyes. You touched a part of me with this and you did it beautifully. |
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