My grandma and I were always pretty close. When I was a young child, she taught me how to play the piano. We spent many nights playing all sorts of fun boardgames-she had a kind, loving heart but she was stubborn to the core. She was stronger than anyone.
However, I had lost contact with her after I left for college a few states away. She called a few times and we chatted the day away. I was shocked to hear, only a few months later, that she had become very sick.
Her calls when she was sick had taken a strange turn. She was frantic and breathing heavily; she started saying things were following her and she was frightened. I tried to calm her down but eventually my mom got concerned and went to go live with her. The calls stopped after that.
Exactly a week ago, my mother texted me asking to look after grandma. She had to go on an urgent business trip and couldn’t leave grandma with a stranger. I obliged and took the bus over, I had a few weeks off anyway and I did miss the stubborn lady.
I arrived at the house on Monday. My mom had left a few hours earlier. When I opened the door with luggage in my hand, I felt an overwhelming sadness. The house I remembered so clearly was just an echo of what it used to be. It was filthy and clearly had not been maintained like it used to.
My mother had left a note on the fridge with everything I needed to do. Strangely, there was very little on the list. Besides all the basics, like feeding, pills, dressing, bathing, there was one that stood out to me most. At the bottom, underlined 3 times, stood : “Don’t get too close.”
My first thought was that that was some kind of joke. But then again, my mother wasn’t the joke type. How was I supposed to do all my tasks without getting too close? It seemed impossible. I pondered to myself, thinking my mother had a strange sense of humour after all. I wrote it off.
I wish I hadn’t.
Seeing her in the flesh was a strange sight. She layed in her armchair all day in front of the TV. Her eyes were almost see-through with glassiness, her mouth pressed tightly and her breathing was shallow and hoarse. I hated to think it but it freaked me out.
I gave her all her medicine and made sure to turn on the feeding tube exactly when it said to on the note. I was very precise. I got…very close when I had to brush her teeth.I think she held her breath when I did it- she must have been nervous. I felt so bad for her. She didn’t move or speak, or react during these tasks. She just stared blankly at the screen. I had to almost pry her mouth open.
On Tuesday I woke up expecting her to at least have moved around in her sleep. But she was still in the exact same position in the armchair. She could’ve asked me to move her to her bed. I told her that she was welcome to ask me anytime. No response.
That afternoon when I went to get her pills in the cupboard, I finally heard her speak. She said one word only. “Stay.”
I turned around instantly expecting her to look at me with a sorrowful smile. But she was still in the exact same position. I turned back around and said, “I’m always here, you know that, of course I’ll-“
She cut me off. Her voice was strangely raspy. “Come closer.”
She was still staring at the screen with a blank gaze. “Grandma,” I tested the waters. Nothing.
This was freaking me out. Was I hearing voices? Was she messing with me? Perhaps I needed a break…this was getting to me. I gave her all her medicine while attentively watching her for any movement.
And on Wednesday morning the realisation hit me-she only spoke when I didn’t look at her. But why? Maybe she was ashamed of the state she was in. It was strange but I went with it as I had not gotten any communication yet.
I walked to the livkng room after a walk outside and turned back around. “Grandma?”
“Mm?”
“Are you OK? You haven’t said much to me since I got here. I am always here for you.”
“Closer.”
Why did she want me so close? I hesitantly reverse walked to right beside her.
“Closer.”
That didn’t sound like her.
“Closer.”
In fact, that sounded like someone else.
“…Grandma. I am right here.” My voice was shaking. What was going on?
I moved one step closer. My heart was beating faster and faster. I wished I could run away. I felt like she was watching my every movement waiting for something. And suddenly she grabbed my hand aggressively. I immediately spun around but she let go in a split second. There she was.. in her chair. Exactly the same.
I heard breathing with a hoarse, shortened air.
I got so scared in that house. I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt like I was being watched and frankly I was worried for my grandma. She was acting very odd.I shuddered to think of it but it felt like that hand belonged to someone else. Plus, the house reeked. I was scared rats had died underneath the floorboards where grandma slept. So I panicked and called my friend,Amy ,who is a nurse, to drive over.
Amy was very kind to come over in the dead of night. She started talking about how it was normal to be a bit freaked out in this situation. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she walked around my grandma. She inspected her carefully and with worry in her eyes.
“Well, will she be alright? I think she was a bit confused earlier.”
“Jemma…” she said.
“She has been dead for days now. Maybe even a week. I am so sorry.”
The shock didn’t set in after about a minute when she said it. How was this possible? Christ, how did I not realise this?? It broke me.
I realised soon after my mother had warned me not to get too close to her. No, not as some horrid joke.
She didn’t want me to realise the breathing I was hearing was not grandma’s.
That leaves me with one question today.
Who the HELL was I talking to?