Sweet dreams-sweet droms

“So, I was planning on changing those curtains, I think I need a brighter color for the bedroom, what do you think, sweetheart?” my grandma says while showing me around the room via the Skype videocall. She’s been quite obsessed with renovations lately, watching all kinds of annoying shows with mansion transformations, as if she even has the money to make her useless expectations come true.

           “Yeah, yeah, great idea,” I mumble while checking the Zelda chat. I’m officially bored stiff, so I wish I could happily hung up to join the next game round. Mom’s great idea to call grandma and see how she’s doing destroyed my every chance to happily get my videogame-dose today. She hasn’t stop talking about all the news happening in the countryside and I could say I’m trying hard to keep up with the mix of information.

In the meantime, messages start flooding my screen:

WTF LOST THREE LIVES IN STAGE 15

SHIT BRO WE CAN’T WIN WITH ONLY 4

IT’S THE ROUND WITH THE BIG GUY

LARY CHANGE SWORD AND ARROW WITH JAY D

           “Shit, motherf—” I spit after checking the group chat. Now, I’m officially pissed off. Jay D will get the sword but I have always been the ‘sword-keeper’. I could bring us a great win.

           “Gran, I…” I start. “I gotta go.”

It’s then that I notice her owl-eyes on me; maybe they’ve been like that since I’d cursed out loud.

“Goodb—” I attempt to avoid her.

“You shouldn’t swear, dear,” she says with her calm tone and I realize she’s about to make a great monologue.

“Look at the precious gift God has given us—speech—and how we choose to use it. It’s a pity, isn’t it?”

Meanwhile, the game is about to start and I ain’t in the mood for philosophical conversations. My restless fingertips need something to do once again, so I find myself subconsciously clicking my pen against my hollowed cheek.

“Ok, gran. I’ll try to remember. Now, goodb—”

“Do you remember what I’d always tell you? The three most important virtues?”

Oh boy. This has become my childhood moto, learned out by heart.

“A peaceful mind,” she begins and it takes me several seconds to come up with that next, tricky one.

“A merciful intellect…and a lotus mouth.”

The most important gift one could have right now is none of them, though. I’d rather get some family-free time to focus on my Zelda game for once.

“A lotus mouth means polite mouth. You know them but you could also try to use them, boy,” she teases me.

I give her the thumbs up and wave. I’m once again about t say ‘goodbye’ when she cuts me off. That damn word doesn’t wanna come out today.

“Goodbye, my angel boy. I miss you lots. Let’s hope the pandemic finishes fast so that you come visit me here.”

“Take care, gran, and stay safe.”

“Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams.”

And her image disappears as I press the red button. Her melodic grandma-like voice stills reminds me of my childhood, when we’d say sweet dreams-sweet droms and sing some dreadful jingles before bed.

Anyway, right now my biggest dream has come true; I have all the time for some crazy gaming, I tell myself as I join in Stage 16.

A week later…

           I feel Mom’s chapped fingers brushing against the messy hair at the back of my neck. Maybe it’s the only humanly sensation I’ve gotten for several hours now.

“C’m on, kid. It’s time to go,” I hear her struggling to keep her voice light behind me.

“Just go to the car, I’m coming.”

I sounded angry, I didn’t mean to. Perhaps I can’t figure out my emotions right now. Strangely enough, I hear no comments regarding my tone. She drags her hand away from me and soon her steps on the grassy ground fade.

           Grandma passed away. She passed away, I tell myself by looking around me once more. A new, clean grave lies on the yard, lust one more added to the lot all around the place. For the graveyard, it doesn’t make a difference.

The thick, grey sky seems to be crying today; tiny raindrops meet the grass silently, then fade. Even the sky is crying, and I can’t. Still numb. Maybe I’m just heartless and numbness is an excuse.

She didn’t want us to cry, at least I remember always saying that. She’d loved her life and believed death wasn’t the end. Maybe it was only a small end, the end of the earthly experience. She said something great wound await and that she’d be better there. She wanted us to be happy for her.

           Everybody’s dressed in black today. Color of grief, they say. I don’t think black is sad, I love it in fact. Grandma thought white was the color of grief, it symbolizes the soul’s purity when it gets cleaned from the sins and is ready to rest close to God. I’m personally not sure. And I don’t believe in God. So, I wore grey today, for everyone to be satisfied.

           She died alone. COVID-19. Alone, alone, alone. And fast. Was it a week ago that we last spoke? Something like that. I still remember being in a hurry to end the call. Couple of days later: hospital, covid, intense care unit. That was it.

           And yet, I didn’t say goodbye. That day I really wanted to, now I don’t. All those thoughts buzz in my head and again I focus on the surroundings. Nothing’s changed. Raindrops still falling, slowly but somewhat rhythmically.

           Deep inside, I still got a childish hope. I don’t know how I found it or how it found me, maybe it’s just the desperation that doesn’t let me accept it. But the childish hope remains, tiny but still there. I’m still waiting for her familiar voice to interrupt me.

“Goodbye,” I whisper. I finish the word undisturbed. The lump in my throat is bitter, but I swallow a sob. Complete silence. I wait for her voice but I know it’s not coming; she won’t interrupt me this time. And never again.

           I dry a tear out of my face with the back of my palm and walk to the car.