Life can be messy. Mine is that. My family is made of patches and love. We formed as a group out of fractions which grew into new formations. Leaving behind others to form a stronger unit. This is how I got my Mimi. She was a woman of constant thought, and some might call it worry. Always caring for those around her and loving on those who were hurting. Of course she was hurting herself, and she let others love on her in her time of need, but was always there to offer kind words.
She was my Mimi. My grandmother by marriage. My truest realest grandmother I have ever had. Sure I had real birth grandmothers, but never seeing them made them distant thoughts, and she was real to me.
When I was younger she drove me crazy. Driving far too slow in her 19 God knows what tan Chevy Caprice. It was a close relative to a military humvee, and I was sure she got it off a local air base. She was also known for documenting, or at least attempting to document every single blessed event with a picture. I have decided over the years that she had about a 30 to 70 % chance to actually get the camera to fire. But God knows we all had to smile and say cheese each time.
These days I have moments when I would trade 500 misfires for five minutes with her. Just a few seconds to spill my guts out so she could tell me it will all be ok. In her final weeks I lived for what became coined Mondays with my Mimi. I would sit with her in various hospitals and care centers and lie to her, and myself saying it will all be ok. I knew better than that, but sometimes lies can bandage the soul.
I remember when my Dad told me she was sick. Everything was rushed, and panic set in fast for my family. I was strangely calm though, and immediately had resolve. I remember the first thought I had was “oh she’s dead.” For some reason I had her in the ground before she even got there. Looking back on it though I think that was my way to cope. Be matter of fact, and scientific about it. Some might say I was just being pessimistic, but I think I was just being real. She was going to die. There was no bargaining with God in this matter. He had already claimed her to visit him soon.
Everything went really fast. Like an honest blur mixed with false positives about the future ahead. She moved here as soon as she was stable and we began the process to the end. It was similar to riding a roller coaster at Disney, except for it was in hell. As a family we all walked on egg shells with each other pretending the elephant of death wasn’t in the room. We got really good at it too. Almost so that we thought she would live. Be fine. I even had myself nearly convinced.
My Mondays with Mimi became a daily event straight to the end. Robotic almost, but loved through and through. Go to work, go run, go see Mimi. Go to work, go run, go see Mimi. Daily, for weeks this went on from hospital to care center, and back to the hospital again. For weeks that was all we knew. Friends became vague thoughts of my past. Time was broken down into shifts and stays. I don’t even know why we ever unpacked her. She was like a Supertramp of hospital stays. Always on the road.
I remember her last day traveling on the earth with us. She fought strong and hard to go with God. She wanted it to be over.The journey to end. She was tired of traveling, to weak to go on. I knew that night when I left the hospital there would be no Mondays. No more more kind words and comfort. It was to end simply then and there as we gave her back to God. She was not be ours on this earth any longer.
It’s almost like she set me free in her passing that night. Asking me to travel for her. Carry her pack and find adventures she only dreamed of. She put me on the path to explore this world with no ties holding me back. No need to second guess each move.
Maybe she is what lit the fire in me to travel, explore, and seek my own adventures on the road. Just maybe, she led me to be Girl vs. Wild?
Girl vs. Wild,
Jacquelyn Farris
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