My Grandmother Died on New Year’s

I don’t grieve the loss of the woman I knew — I’m grieving the loss of an experience life never gave me.

The text came in at 12:37 in the morning.

I wouldn’t find out until a few hours later; my mom wanted me to enjoy my New Year’s Eve with her, my partner, and our colorful group of animal children. I get it and I’m not mad at her for that. I appreciate her for allowing me to enjoy the end of 2023 uninterrupted.

I’m glad she let me have the night.

When she told me around 9/10 the following morning I remember something in me feeling hit, on the inside. a shockwave, I think. I had just had a dream of two vultures watching me quietly in a tree. I woke up immediately with a weird feeling of death surrounding me.

I get like this when people die (or are about to).

I always sense it first and truth be told, I was overcome by this very offputting sense of deep sadness the entirety of the previous day. It was the kind of sadness that makes you silent. The kind that doesn’t involve talking or need the comfort of company. It’s just a void and it’s an oddly comfortable one to be in.

But it was New Year’s Eve… so I kept it to myself as I tried to figure out where it was coming from. Plus, I had a family of my own to celebrate with. I didn’t have time for this.

By this point, I knew my grandmother was on her deathbed and felt weird about it. Things went quiet for a day or two (or three) and I found myself wondering if she was still alive.

My family and I are not close.

The dream was what alerted me to there being bad news on the way. Sure enough, I went into my mom’s room to say good morning and got the news.

The shockwave surprised me when I felt it because my grandmother wasn’t a figure in my life, she cast me off. The brief early period she had in my life was nothing remarkable.

I never had the golden stories most people have of their grandparents — especially their grandmothers. It was an experience life left me out of.

We didn’t bake cookies or travel to amazing places together. She wasn’t a safe haven when me and my mom didn’t get along. There were no hugs and heartwarming holidays. The last time she saw me was at a Pow Wow she didn't expect to see me (or my mom) at and she looked me in the eye from across the venue and looked away.

That was 2017.

I had just graduated college with my second and third degree.

She knew none of that.

That woman didn’t even know how old I was and never knew my birthday (or simply didn’t acknowledge me on that day). She never even came to see me or her daughter in the hospital when I was born.

The deep pain I’ve witnessed so many people express over the loss of their grandmothers is and always has been foreign to me. It always seemed like an exclusive club of grief I was never going to be admitted into.

And I wasn’t.

Because I don’t give a damn that she’s dead, I give a damn that all of my grandparents were already dead by the time I was born except for her. And I still never had the chance to have that grandparent-grandchild relationship nearly everyone talks about.

I feel cheated.

By life, by her, by the whole damn family tree. I hate my family and I hate that they were chosen for me. Better yet, I’m disappointed in life’s choices in this regard.

Still, I access my empathy for others who lost their grandmothers by replacing that loss with others I’ve survived. I have to because… my grandmother wasn’t a kind woman.

Out of respect for my mom, I won’t speak deeply on this subject. But it’s all been on my mind and I know that means something… though I’m not exactly sure what that is yet.

My grief doesn’t come from the loss of the woman I knew. It comes from the loss of an experience I never got the chance to have, because she could never be the kind of person it takes to have that experience with.

What’s bothering me is a saying I heard eight years ago that went something like, “The year will end the way it began”. What’s scaring me the most about that is the potential meaning.

Many of you familiar with my work know my mom is sick and that outside of the parts of myself I share on Medium, my outside time is spent being her caretaker. My grandmother’s death made my mom’s mortality feel somehow much more tangible.

If the year is destined to end the way it began then… does that mean it will end with me losing my mom the way it started with her losing her mother?

You and I, both, know this is a question you cannot answer.

What I can offer right now is one truth:

My grandmother has just died and it does not hurt — and that is what hurts.

(No. I did not attend the funeral.)

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