For whatever reason, probably the setting, I’m “Riding the Hubcap,” free from obligation, an outlaw, like that kid in Dorene O’Brien’s short story of the same title.
When I last saw my grandmother alive, the police got involved. My grandmother was in the Bad Axe hospital, her bones riddled with cancer; two pints of blood buying extra time.
It’s sad seeing someone you love in the last stages of their life, too weak to walk, too weak to eat, and us, “family,” not yet ready to let go. The last thing my grandmother said to me was: “My Little Jimmy,” which brought back memories of my childhood. It seems as if yesterday’s innocence got lost ... don’t know how or why ... but my grandmother took me back there, shifting my focus from her son, my uncle, standing outside her hospital room with the Bad Axe police.
I’m not sure why so many generations of family can’t get along, why there’s this deep seeded resentment. Life’s too short for that. My grandmother lived for another seven days. With my parents by her bedside, she wept, gave them a wink, as if to say, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” and then she took her last breath.
So life continues for the rest of us. We go on. Our motivations, our ambitions, sometimes colliding. Strange, isn’t it? And all I’m thinking about is that damn kid in “Riding the Hubcap” and how he too had reached the end of the line ... with his regrets in check ... with the wind blowing the wheat.
Recommended book: Dorene O’Brien’s “Voices of the Lost and Found”.
10 comments:
I haven't read the story, so I can't make the connection. Maybe you could post a link?
Watching my father go was hard. 14 months of stop and go, false hope and temporary recovery. The doctors knew. They'd seen it many times before and they'd told him that he was dying. He didn't believe it and we didn't know.
Jim, Nice post. Mom and Dad mentioned about the incident in the hospital since I stayed until midnight on Wednesday and then went home. I'll get you the photos of Delma Jane soon. Take Care, Bro, --Ron
I'm so sorry, JR. It's the hardest thing in the world. I miss my grandparents every day, and I dread the day when my parents go. I'm always telling you how you make me laugh...well, this time you brought tears to my eyes (and I'm not one to cry easily). These are beautiful words for a beautiful woman. The wink before the last breath shows a great spirit. And that picture is awesome.
Whitenoise, There was a time where you could read the story on-line; I'll look for the link and post asap.
Hey Bro, Please do. I'd like a few pics of our family's resting place. In return, I'll make sure to get you a copy of my soon-to-be-released chapbook.
Julie, Thanks. It's hard to believe she's gone. She was a very tough woman, considering how painful bone cancer is.
Hey, you're back! Is it really you this time???
We are our parents' and grandparents' immortality, as our children are ours. As Kurt Vonnegut said, "And so it goes..." But it's always really tough to lose someone we love. Really tough.
Beautifully written.
Don't underestimate the importance of family dysfunction, without it, where would literature be? Family dysfunction travels from generation to generation, like some unhealthy gene, until it is either bred out or distilled, or dealt with at a psychological level.
Interesting post.
I definitely hear you on this post. One of my friends is currently losing 2 of her friends to the big C & one of Charles' brother's isn't doing well, either. All things considered, I've been thinking about family I've lost to the big C, myself. Just horrible. As you say, life's too short to hold grudges, particularly where family's involved.
JR, Grammas are such a link to our pasts. I still feel like a little girl around mine. The hub cap reference reminds me of riding on the tractor or in the bed of the truck. The days seemed so much sunnier.
Sorry about your grandmother, JR.
Thanks for recommending my book, Voices of the Lost and Found. The Chicago Tribune had "Riding the Hubcap" online for quite a while but I think it's buried in cyberspace archives by now. I'd be happy to send it along to you via email and you can share with whomever you like.
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