The Red Butterfly

Tribute to my grandma, who died November 9th, 2009.

I can still remember every thought that ran through my head that early Sunday morning, and every event taken place. Twenty three minutes can change your life, and you as a person.


I could feel the tenacious and impatient grip of my Aunt Debbie gripping my arms, shaking me until I seeped away from the ingenuous dreams and into the brutal reality where only children weep, where people die every three seconds, and where justice is never served to the right people.
I felt like I was suffocating from the umbra of her cigarette infected breath until I realized what she was waking me up for. My attitude turned from bleary-eyed from the bare minimum of sleep I received to bereaved inner conflict.
5:17AM.
The news startled everyone in snug beige and red colored house. And when we made our way to my Aunt Debbie’s red Toyota I looked around to everyone that sat beside me, and I tried to analyze who the news hit harder. It didn’t get me very far, due to the blank and the lack of emotions on their faces. Aunt Sharron was starring weary outside the car window, Uncle Richard and Uncle John who were humorous under pressure cracked a few jokes, but nobody laughed. People don’t like it when they see other people crying, it makes them feel uncomfortable and anxious. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Ray were sitting near the front, hands both gripping the side of the car as they quickly drove, hitting every red light they came across.
5:24AM.
As for me, I was trying to absorb everyone else’s response to the news to keep mine hidden. I didn’t understand why we were rushing so fast, when we had all the time in the world to visit my grandma, Vera Clow, in J. Milner Hospice. When I asked, all they said was that it was urgent. Nobody actually told me the real reason.
Until my Uncle John, who was refraining from the unlikable jokes, told me ‘time is for clocks. There is no time when it comes to human conditions. We’re rushing because of time and Vera’s condition. Sometimes, in the very worse way, those two collide.’
5:26AM.
‘Uncle John, why didn’t we get a hotel near the Hospice, why drive all this way?’ I could remember the slight crack in my voice when I clenched my jaw. There were tears of misunderstanding and confusion, but I knew that I should be crying.
‘Sometimes when you’re around that area for too long, you start to make every place you go to that way. Space heals people, and without space, we wouldn’t be able to figure anything out.’
‘What’s there to figure out?’
‘Everything needs some input of thought. Without thinking, our emotions wouldn’t be able to be confided. Some things are better to think of than to say.’
5:28AM
I asked my Aunt Debbie if she could turn on the radio so I could focus on something other than the trembles I felt coming on.
Come break me down, bury me bury me, I am finished with you. What if I wanted to fight? Beg for the rest of my life. What would you do, do, do? Look in my eyes, you’re killing me, killing me. All I wanted was you. I tried to be someone else, but nothing seemed to change. I know now this is who I really am inside.
5:32AM.
Somehow in the midst of the song, I fell asleep. It wasn’t till the car came to a jolting stop when I realized we arrived. I looked up and saw the haunting pillars on each side of the devil-mouthed door. The window pane glared down at me, making me feel fear instead of grief.
This is where people came to finish their life. But in the end, all deaths end the same: we all die alone. Death is final. Patients come here to run from the end of things, and try to make a new beginning even though they are dawning near the end.
The hallways were narrow, I felt suffocated and traumatized as I neared the elevator. I knew we weren’t going to all fit in it. Even if it was just for half a minute, I felt a twinge of separation anxiety.
5:34AM.
Parents hide their children from situations like these because they think they can’t handle it. But what makes you think that they can handle it? There’s a difference between being protective and hiding insecurities in parenting.
When the elevator doors opened, I felt cold and like I was walking into something that I was never going to be able to get out of.
We neared my Grandma’s room, but even before I got to open the door, I was welcomed by two familiar faces. Although, this time, I saw something that I didn’t see often.
My mother was crying, and the petite girl beside her, Aunt Michelle, was looking down at the odd tiled floor.
5:36AM.
Emotions ran wild, and so did the tears that strolled down on every ones faces. The receptionist was just upset as we were, she tried comforting me, but knew that it was as pointless as holding an empty gun in a middle of a war.
I sat near the maroon colored arm chairs that had a table in between the two chairs. Butterflies were attached onto a tree with names written professionally on each of them. The most admirable feature of the whole centerpiece was the tiny letters underneath, written by the patients families that lost someone.
5:40AM.
My mother, Melony Hiebert, told me to go into the room and say my last goodbye’s to my grandma. I knew that it was only a suggestion to help me cope, and she knew that I wouldn’t do it. There were some things you accomplished when you feared it, but there was nothing I could accomplish with saying my final goodbyes.
5:41AM.
Uncle John came out to the lobby and in his palm he held a red butterfly symbolizing my grandma’s strength and favorite color.
‘She may be gone, but your memories will never fail you. She won’t be gone forever, you’ll see her again one day.’ Uncle John soothed me with the lightness of his words and the care-filled circular motions he made with his hand on my back. ‘Children aren’t the only one’s who weep. Every adult has some child left in them, they just have to go through a path to remember that. We may grow old, but it’s because of experiences like these that make us old.’

Reviews

[rae52]

nice piece, very well written, had me crying great read

[Ryzo]

This is such an emotional read. We all know that everything inevitably comes to an end. Its even harder to come to that realisation when it's someone close to you that has left. I've had this feeling many a time. Its a very potent piece of writing. Full of valuble quotes and a rollercoaster of emotions. It was a fantastic read. :)

[amdc101]

There are so many incredible quotes in this piece. So much feeling that proves you went through this. It is raw, and honest, and beautiful.

[roarke]

Upon reading your profile, I know you are a complex young lady. I find it hard to write very personal things, exposing the raw nerves and feelings inside. Some find it easier.
When personal loss happens, there is no rhyme or reason to it in the moment or even afterward. It just is. It just happens.
Make no mistake, this is a difficult write. In one way it seems like you are putting things in perspective, the people, the time reference, the memories, the emotions. We all go through passages, parents and grandparents dying is one of those passages few escape experiencing. Sometimes you just have to accept the events and circumstances as life has presented them to you.
You gave a good portrayal of the drama of the people around you. Your attention to detail is exceptional.
To me, your Uncle John is the most memorable character, a contrast to both your inner and outer feelings during the event.
This is a unique piece that is hard to sum up, such as real life is. In that way I think this is a terrific piece. It's nothing less than a highly individual personal account of a period in your life. I have a feeling you will write more about this as you get older.

[CHRIS ANDES]

feeling of solitude...sad

[johnnyqueer]

Very sad. Death can be such a horrible things to deal with.

[Coyote Poetry]

To learn death is hard. I learn death at a young age. Made me harder then most kids. I like the story. The words told a real story with pain and a lot of sad emotion. I like the statement at the end of the story.
"We may grow old, but it’s because of experiences like these that make us old.’"
Thank you for the outstanding story.
Coyote

[Dahlia Phoenix]

‘She may be gone, but your memories will never fail you. She won’t be gone forever, you’ll see her again one day.’

Absolutely sad. To realize someone close has died is heart breaking and even when people try to laugh it off, it still aches to bear with it. This line though is important because even if gone, we will see them again. An absolute great piece! :)

[((Teenage_Poet_Loser))]

this was such a good and fun read, although it was sad. i could feel all the emotions running through me and i actually felt the same as the character... well done on that! i have just one thing to ask... whats up with the times? dont take it up as bad critisism,... just want to know =]... i know you said in the opening that so little time can change your life... is that why you put in the time? =]

[Dayran]

Hospitals remind a person of birth and of death. In both instances, the odour of alcohol stays just under the nose like a waft of something that is familiar. For a child to discover such treasures of thought and of memory, would imply a certain new introduction to the world of knowledge within, that sometimes, comes from the outside. A smooth light flow, with a hint of pastel, the way hospitals are colored. Nice write!