stuffy noses

A few nights ago, very late at night, I was crying. Not the silent, one tear running down your face, cry you sometimes get in a movie (confession: I cried at the end of Toy Story 3), but the sobbing, wetness coming out of every opening on my face, nose so stuffed that I couldn’t breathe kind of crying. I was lying in bed with Matthew, and he was holding me as the tragedy of this broken world caved in on me.

But here’s the thing, I felt bad that I was getting Matthew’s chest all wet. My tears, snot and slobber were making a pool on his chest so I closed my mouth, and to sort of stop the flow from my eyes I closed them, too, and then just laid there still. It was comfortable. I fit so perfectly in the place where Matthew’s shoulder meets his chest. This is the best place to be when I am sad (or happy for that matter, or asleep.) Well, so what’s the problem, right? Well, remember how when you cry your nose runs but also gets all stopped, right? Well, mine was stopped up completely, and even though I really needed to blow my nose, my tissue box was too far away and to get it I would have to get out of this very peaceful place I was in. So I just laid there, eyes closed, mouth closed, and holding my breath cause my nose didn’t work. 

Finally the pressure was too much and I had to move. Blah.

Many more tears landed on Matthew’s chest, and then my pillow that night.

This morning the call came. I was lying in bed, waiting for a decongestant to kick in, when my phone rang and Matthew answered it.

My Grandmother has died.

All day today I have at times had this pang in my chest, like an alarm saying “You didn’t say goodbye!” But I did, I remind myself. A few weeks ago, while she was just barely well enough to still be at my Mom’s house, we went to see her. I encouraged her to finish drinking a glass of tea, then lay down for a nap. I sat there and chatted with her and rubbed her back and head. Mom used to do that to me, and it made me feel better, so I figured it would help Grandmother feel better, too. She groaned and said “You know how to do that just right! You are a good rubber-er!”

We sat there for a long time. We talked a little, but also just sat there quietly. I remember her hair in my fingers, smoothing it, then re-fluffing it. When it was time to go, I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her. And “See you later.” She told me she loved me, too.

 She has been my Grandmother my entire life. She came to the house when I was little for my birthday. She gave me a pretty pink and white dress.

She was always old and she would always laugh at us.

She had a specific aroma. Later in high school, I realized that that smell was really just dust, but she gave me a large orange pillow that had been in her house for ages, and I loved it because I could burry my nose in it and smell her. I miss that pillow, but I can still remember how she smells. I hope I never forget that.