For all the wrong reasons, I remember the first time I met Mark Elder, one of the salesmen for Gaggle at the time.
I was driving the Daewoo at the time, and I was in the middle of dropping him off at a hotel that was literally down the road from where I lived. He hopped out of the car at the same time that my mother was calling me. I looked at the phone, and being the bad driver at the time, answered the call as Mark got out of the car. I was pulling away from the hotel entrance as my mom was on the other end of the line telling me that my grandmother had passed away. My grandmother lived literally one block away, closer to me than the hotel was.
I don't remember the rest of that call, but I do remember calling my ex and telling her what had happened. She was shocked and said she was sorry, and I told her that I wouldn't be home right away, that I was going to her apartment. I think she offered to also be there, but I said no.
I parked across the street from her apartment, a little two bedroom place where she had one bedroom entirely devoted to baseball cards. Floor to ceiling, shelf upon shelf, there stood a huge collection. She loved to organize and collect them. I parked across the street and proceeded to her front door.
Her front door was open, save for the closed screen door. There was a police officer on the other side, and as I approached, he looked like he didn't know what to do. He halfway opened the screen door, and I believe he thought I was someone else that they were expecting. I opened the door and....
My grandmother had died from cardiac arrest, as they would find out later on. She was there in her night clothes, had the attack, and fell face forward. It had been some time between that happening and my aunt Barb checking on her only to find out the bad news first.
The last time I saw my grandmother alive is something that, thankfully, still sits in my mind. I had gone over with the ex after a night of working, so I was still in my restaurant clothes. It must have been a weekend night. We were all sitting there as she was going through the collection of baseball cards that she had recently bought after saving up some money for a few months. She was organizing them while sitting on her couch. Me and the ex were sitting around and just shooting the shit with her. It became time to go, and I remember my grandmother offering me a lass of wine or anything to drink. I declined. This is one of those moments that if I had a time machine, I would go back, have that glass of wine, and enjoy the night away.
Not knowing the future, I declined that glass of white zinfandel.
I went over to the couch to hug her and say good bye. She looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. I noted then that they looked like they were crying. I look back at it and with the knowledge of the future, I wonder if she knew this would be the last time I saw her. The story teller in me says that she did, the realist in me knows that she was sad I was leaving.
The next time that I opened the door to her place, she was face down with her head nearest to the door. Almost as if she stood up from where she was at where I last saw her and she fell towards the door.
I took a deep breath in. I saw the shocked faces of the other officer that was in the room and the coroner that was looking over the scene. Obviously, I should 't have been there. I don't know what was said, but basically the coroner had apologized and I went to sit in the back of a police car with an officer. Having not been in this position before, it was rather interesting. The officer joked with me a bit about the baseball card collection, and we both wondered if that year or the next would be it for the Cubs. The Cubs were the number one team that my grandmother loved, and she taught me that love from a young age that I still carry to this day, despite growing up right outside of the St, Louis area.
The coroner came in to the car, apologized again about me being at the scene when it was something that I shouldn't have seen. I waived the apology off and thanked her and the officer for being there and for what they have done. After that, I don't remember much. I know that I went home and ate something. I remember, vaguely, talking to the ex about what happened. I didn't take off work the next few days. I didn't cry much at all. I would spend the next couple of days with family as a new drama unfolded with an aunt in Seattle, which on reflection showed me that some family can be so fickle and so bitchy.
She kept crossword puzzles for me, shared her love of the Cubs with me, and I know held me close in her thoughts. The feelings of regret and not seeing her more often or not spending time that final night with her only ring so much in my memory because she is not here anymore.
I know when the Cubs win the world series I will raise a glass in her memory. I have a ton of memories with her, each one held close in my heart and mind. Between holidays and time just enjoying an afternoon baseball game, I'll always have those times. She was my Granny.
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