Chasing Manlove

Dedication to Lillian Manlove

I wish I could go back in time and remember the thoughts that have forever been erased from my memory. I am18 years old and occasionally suffer from short-term memory loss. This isn’t as bad as it sounds. I’ll stand somewhere and look around and forget where I am. Usually, hearing a voice or looking down at a binder I’m carrying is enough to snap me into the present. It makes me worry, though; about the thoughts I have forgotten and don’t realize I even had. One thought, however, is continuously in my mind, the fear that I will end up like her…my grandmother. I fear that we are on the same path, even though we are nothing alike. Once we shared the same memories of each other and depended on each other to help those memories surface.

 

Her name is Lillian Manlove but I know her as Grandma Lil. She once stood as tall and proud as my mother. Now, age has turned her hair grey but her skin remains a warm dark chocolate brown. Her hands were always cold and when she brushed my cheek I could feel every wrinkle that time had left on her. When I was four I claimed her as mine and mine alone. I would follow her everywhere until one day she asked me not to, and I waited patiently in the next room for her return. I was like her adoring puppy and she the watchful owner who enjoyed the small gifts I had to offer.

 

When I visited her, we attended church. When I was six, I had the nerve to speak up in one of their private church meetings, simply asking “If Jesus died, how could he come back to life? Once you’re dead you’re dead.” But they scared me away with their glares as I hid behind her for protection. She smiled and told me that what I said was true but the story of Jesus is like a fairy tale and anything can happen. I smiled and nodded as we prepared to leave the church. When I was 13, I retold this story to her to discover that she had long forgotten it. We found that our interest in religion was very diverse in that she would always carry a Bible in her purse while I still haven’t read a whole chapter all the way through.

 

I also had sleepovers at my grandmother’s house. I would go early in the morning and remain until the next day. These rituals occurred during the summer when I didn’t have to go to school. She would let me watch cartoons until noon and then reach for the remote and sneakily change to her favorite channel, court TV, which still plays on her television to this day. Her home had many mysteries, such as the closet next to the couch she lay on. I never discovered the true contents of that closet.  I learned that my place was on the floor. I found it more comfortable than the chair that would always bite my arms, or the ratty footstool that would shake when you moved. I would look up at my grandmother smiling, tilting her head back as I got up to unlock the closet door and pull out her sons’ old towel. It smelled of baby powder just like the rest of her closet. I spread it out in the middle of the floor and lay flat on it. She asked me if I wanted a blanket, a common question asked amongst my grandmothers. I shook my head as I slowly drifted to sleep.

 

Night came and we would head upstairs to her bathroom, brush our teeth together and prepare for bed. She would take my hand and lead me down the hall to her bedroom where I could hear the cars and the crickets blending together, making a noisy tune that would keep me up half the night. My curiosity would get the best of me during those long nights. One night, I leaned over to hear a purring sound that I had never heard before. I looked over and it was my grandmother, looking like she was about to kiss someone, then moving her lips back to normal. I giggled and shook her, promptly telling her that she snored funny. She didn’t even open her eyes as she grumbled, “Go back to sleep and I’ll snore however I like.” Listening to her snoring, roaming the house at night and having midnight snacks in the dark, only to hear my grandmother complain the next day�" that is how I passed time in her house without parents watching me.

 

As I grew older, I became more independent. I no longer felt the need to follow her everywhere. I didn’t need to lie by her side and have her watch me or cook for me. No more sleepovers, no more church, and soon, no more visits. She would call my house often, wanting to speak to me and wondering why I never bothered to call or come by. I couldn’t think of a reason…I did not have one for not calling or going to visit. 

 

Her questions went unanswered until, I learned that her time here on earth was running out. I went to visit her to find her confined to her bedroom, lying there exhausted. Her tinted grey hair was now pure white, her once firm skin now hung loosely and her bones showed through her nightdress. I sat down a good distance from her, unable to look at her, feeling ashamed that I had abandoned her after all these years. Yet she still called me her baby and looked at me as if I was still four, growing up right in front of her.

 

She taught me how to be strong and state my mind. I have a different way of looking at things than most people. She encouraged my curiosity by telling me that she knew I got out of bed and ate a piece of pie every night that I stayed with her. She even told me I needed a new tactic because it was just plain obvious who was doing it when I had pie stains on my pajamas. Do well in school, be friendly to those around you and talk to people. She taught me all these things and it wasn’t until now that I began to understand and apply them. I have made friends in high school, people of different ages and grades, something I’ve never done before. I got into my first choice college through hard work and applying my social skills. To be without my grandma, the one who encouraged and supported me in everything I did, bad or good, is going to be a dismal time. Yet all I can do now is sit back and watch her die.

 

She told me she was tired, that I should be strong. Then she remembered my saying about Christ, “Once you’re dead you’re dead.” But she has made her peace with death: “I had a good life, because my baby is beside me in person and in spirit.” I smiled as I kissed her on the forehead, hearing the familiar words I had spoken so many years ago. I had to let my grandma go; she could no longer be mine because someone else was calling her. She was ready to leave me behind and in order to make her happy, I in turn had to let her go.

Reviews

[Dalebear]

Good write