remembering, macaroni-and-cheese

A year ago today I had macaroni-and-cheese for lunch.

Isn't it strange the things we remember looking back? Homemade macaroni-and-cheese a seemingly meaningless detail to remember especially a year later, but I remember a whole lot more starting at that hour (11am) than just what I ate.

Go back 5 days to Sunday. My mom and dad saw my grandpa and grandma at Arby's (it was Arby's Sunday 10% went to our youth group) and ate with them. My grandpa (Charlie) was not able to finish his sandwich, which if you knew him was a strange thing. As soon as we were finished eating I headed for Wauseon High School for my All County Band concert. After the concert I went to find my parents and grandparents in the auditorium; it was then that I was informed that grandma and grandpa were not there because grandma had taken grandpa to the hospital.

By Wednesday the doctors had finally decided that he had pneumonia. Jessica and I took sandwich's, grapes, and drinks to the hospital to eat supper with grandma and visit grandpa. I remember making sure I had my smile on when I left because grandpa always commented on my smile and demeanor. --We had this routine grandpa would always ask "How are you doing BrookE?" (he is one of the very few people I allow to call me BrookE), and I would respond "Good." To which grandpa would say "Good, good, you are always good BrookE," or something in that respect. --

Thursday the Doctors announced that they thought the worst was over.

Friday morning my uncle visited grandpa and just after he left my grandma went came into the room. "Did you see Ed in the hall?" he asked, to which my grandma replied that she had not, "You must have just missed him," he said. He took another drink of orange juice and laid down. From then on things got worse and he was gone by 11:30 that morning.

I was sitting at my normal lunch table in my normal spot --inside table in front of the doors to the outdoor senior eating area-- just about ready to bite into my reheated macaroni-and-cheese when the school Secretary, Mrs. Turner, came into the lunch room. I saw her and knew immediately that she was looking for me. She said, "your mother is signing you out." I knew what this meant, but how could it be? The last news I had received said that the worst was over and he was getting better. Scatterbrained and trying to keep composure I fumbled to pick up my dishes as Jeni and others at the table asked "what's wrong" I looked at Nicole and said "my grandpa." As they tried to reassure me I clumsy and in a daze held back tears and crossed the cafeteria, which seemed to have lengthened considerably, after being clear of half the student body--they would have had a hay-day seeing me hysterical leaving the cafeteria, I can only imagine the rumors that would have begun, but I digress-- (and seeing my mom outside of the office) I could hold back no longer.

The "normal" immediate response to grief hit I remember crying out in anguish to my mom "NO! NO, NO, NO. . . they said he was doing better. . .it's not fair." She never had to tell me what happened. I knew.

On the 1/2 ride to the hospital mom told me what had happened in detail. He didn't suffer long (thank God), and grandma later told me that he did not have the dreaded 'death rattle' the often accompanies pneumonia (like her second husband, Glen, had when he passed on, she said).

He was still in the room. Grandma wished me to go and say my goodbye. I gave him one more hug and kiss on the cheek whispered by I love you and goodbye and took my place beside my grandma. I could tell it meant a lot to her to see me do this, but I never once saw her cry. So strong in front of all of us who'd gathered there.

The viewing and funeral passed, all eight of my grandma's kids were there with their spouses. We told grandma about our previous plans to have a surprise 80th birthday party for her, as a surprise was the last thing needed.

Grandma wanted the grandchildren to take a flower from the floral arrangement on top of his casket. A red rose, there was no question. He made that flower special to me. Numerous occasions come to mind when I think of red-roses at grandma's house. I remember one time arriving at grandma's house with her and seeing a note on the inside door letting her know her that he had purchased roses for her and they were in the basement fridge. The smile on her face; she knew he loved her.

How do we keep going after experiencing a death? A year has passed since grandpa's passing and it has been over 9 years since my brother Shaun's death. How do we keep going? God carried us.

A year ago today I had homemade macaroni-and-cheese for lunch.