When I wrote these words on December 31, 2008, for my blog entry “By December’s End”, I was in Daegu, South Korea, thinking at that moment about my Grandma Sis, who had suddenly taken seriously ill back in Tucson, Arizona. I had a sense of foreboding, an abiding worry, and I wrote what I wrote below as much to reassure myself as to stoke an ever-present flame of optimism:
“Seeing as how things generally work themselves out for the better, like this time last year, I’m pretty confident that whatever lies in store for me in the year ahead will give me more in value and memories than it takes away.“
At the time, I did it as a defense mechanism, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t need such reassurance down the line. But even then I knew…or at least I think I knew…that I was kidding myself. Grandma Sis was in a bad way, a seriously bad way, but even if I’d been back home in the southwestern U.S.A., instead of teaching English on the Korean Peninsula, there wasn’t much besides being there at the end that I could have done about it. Fat lot of comfort that brings.
Grandma’s situation had been up and down – it was almost like a sporting match between two top rival teams, or watching a war: Things are looking really bad, then they’re really looking up, and then…the moment of truth. Or, the moment of being hit with the truth that the result is the one you feared the most…in this case, that one of the primary influences on who you are as a person today is no longer with you in this world.
For me, that moment came while on the phone with my Dad early Monday morning Korea-time on what was for me January 5, 2009. For all intents and purposes, Grandma had – it was still January 4 back in Tucson – already departed; my family present at the hospital were merely waiting for her to draw her final breath. Dad and I were discussing making travel arrangements to get me home for the funeral, and suddenly he interrupted me: “Jeremy…Jeremy…she’s gone. Grandma’s gone,” he choked out. Just like that, she was gone.
Needless to say, as I stared at my laptop sitting on the desk in my apartment’s kitchen, the emotional dam burst as my Dad out of necessity quickly hung up the phone, mumbling that we’d talk again in a bit. I couldn’t control it, didn’t want to control it. Tears slid down my face and I slid out of my chair and collapsed on the floor, sobbing a monsoon (and cussing up a storm, I might add). I’ve never felt worse at any other moment in my life.
What was my Grandma Sis to me? My Mom actually put it best when she said, speaking of my Grandma, that “She kept you grounded.” My Grandma Sis put as much love and care and attention into raising me – well, trying to – to be a good, responsible mensch as my parents did. Maybe a bit more, proportionally, because for some inexplicable reason, her praise often meant more to me than that which came from anyone else, and her criticisms stung something fierce. I won’t even go in to how her nagging affected me…
Well, okay, I will – she was like a lighthouse, shining a guiding light for me into a harbor, whether I wanted her to or not, whether I wanted to go there or not.
Like the Queen of England’s political role, Grandma generally stood above the fray in my disputes with my parents; oh, in sentiment I know she agreed with them most of the time and was probably right to do so. I’ve done things, made reckless decisions, angered her deeply. But even so, I was never without the sense that what she offered me and would always offer me was unconditional love. Whether I was living in Arizona, Israel, New York, or now, in South Korea, I knew I could count on that.
And now? I’m lost. There’s no other way to describe it, besides feeling a palpable sense of loneliness, an emptiness…a void.
I’m only a Grandson; I can’t imagine the pain my Dad and uncles are feeling. I can’t speak for my cousins. I can’t describe how it feels to be one of Grandma’s siblings, nieces or nephews today. All I know is what I know; all I feel is what I feel. Loss. Emptiness. Loneliness. Confusion. How I wish for that lighthouse with its guiding light to still be standing there, complaining about her stomach troubles, admonishing me to visit the dentist, telling me from over 6,000 miles away how much she misses me and loves me.
Several times I’ve been reminded, in the last day or so, by those from all four corners of the Earth I’m lucky to call my friends, “At least she’s in a better place.” Well yeah, true, but between you and me, I’m kind of annoyed that that place isn’t here, with us right now. I respect God’s wisdom in His taking her when He did, or at least I say I do (He knows the truth), but all the same…that doesn’t, can’t, change the fact that I miss my Grandma Sis more than I’ll ever be able to say in any blog or speech or…whatever.








