Eselyn Part II: Life in Death

My grandmother passed away as I was on an airplane frantically trying to reach her. I remember I was working my scheduled shift on our hospital’s Postpartum Unit that night. The shift was minutes away from being over. I had turned in my hospital phone that we carried while working. A fellow nurse said that someone was trying to call me. 

Odd.

I knew I had tied up any loose ends and was just waiting to provide my patient reports to the oncoming day shift nurses. I sat cleaning up and packing my things away. The seldom-used phone on the desk at the nurse’s pod rang. 

Startling. 

It was an old phone—the kind that has a coil to attach the receiver to the base of the phone (some of you kids have no idea ha!). My personal cellphone must have been either dead or tucked away in my bag. It was my mother on the line. 

Not good. 

I instantly knew that something was wrong.  'It's Grandma' she said. I don't remember much of what happened immediately after. I do remember one of my nursing buddies looking on concerned, wondering what could be happening, trying to help me in what seemed like a moment of distress. (Thanks Catherine, I'll never forget you for that). I practically ran to my apartment to buy a plane ticket in an attempt to make it across the county, even after working 12 hours. My grandmother was still living in New York and my childhood home where my mom still lived was not too far away but in another state. My last-minute flight had three stops, one of which was home. 

When my flight touched down in the place I call home, I turned on my cell phone and I noted a voicemail message and rushed to hear it. The message was from one of my aunts. I immediately called her back without listening to the message. ' She's gone.'  

I was crushed. I was left sitting on a plane trying to make my way to my grandmother and she had ‘classically’ left the building as she often did—without a scene, without so much as a peep. The tears were burning in my eyes. I let them fall. 'I tried to keep her for you'. My aunt spoke softly into the phone. My mom's call was next. 'Aiyana, just come off the plane here. We will drive to New York together. I'm on my way to get you'. 

Numb, I did what I was told. 

Later, once we reached New York, my uncle who worked for the hospital where she received her care arranged for me to see her body. Before the funeral home finishings, before the one last dress, before her hands were positioned for her because she could no longer settle them for herself. Before we really said goodbye. Oh, I lost it! 

'Why didn't you wait? I was on my way!' I tearfully spoke to her. Then, just as quickly as I had yelled, I spun my words and told her it was ok. My uncle let me cry and talk to her one last time. 

Fast forward to months later. I can't remember who exactly I was talking to. It had to have been about midwifery and my plans to get my career going. Someone in our family let it slip:' your grandmother delivered babies in Antigua'. 

Insert the screeching of the record here.  

'Yea, she was a midwife'. 

Well, blow me away! This is why I've been fired up? This is why I cannot let the sense that I need to do this go? This is why I am so hard-pressed about being present for births? This? Really?

More of this story in Eselyn: Part III coming next month.