HEAVEN'S LIGHT // ALYSSA MYERS

Tuesdays were a night of relaxation for my family; a day where our daily routines were met and our energies were low. Tuesdays always invited us to stay indoors and eat hot meals until we felt overstuffed. We sat on couches afterwards as if we were waiting to be charged like cell phones. We were out of juice - especially since my great grandmother's health was declining. Mom tended to sleep a lot since her grandmother wasn't doing too well. It seemed as if time would slow down when my mom was around. She wasn't herself. She was a depressed and restrained mess waiting to be revived. Usually, my mom was an energized, silly woman who enjoyed conversing with others. Now that my nanny was slowly losing grip things changed. We didn't look forward to getting together on holidays and we sure didn't look forward to going to Wildwood without her. Instead, we sat in our house with clouds over our heads. We dragged ourselves around and prayed for answers. God responded with a phone call.

Mom bolted to the phone. She answered and put it on speaker. "Ann, you got to get down here. Nan's heart rate dropped and she doesn't have much time." Mom's pale skin somehow turned whiter.

"Alright. I'll be there soon." She hung up the phone and looked directly at me, since I was focused on her conversation with Aunt Rita anyway. "Lyss, you want to go to the city with me and see Nan for one last time?" I shook my head yes. I swallowed the knot in my throat that seemed to choke me. I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I didn't want to say goodbye. I wanted to hold on to her and heal her, but I knew that wasn't possible. Mom and I shuffled into our shoes and kissed my brothers goodnight. We knew we were in for a long night.

I opened the front door only to be greeted by the October wind sending shivers down my spine. Mom and I headed straight for the car in the darkness. As we got in, she cranked up the heat and took one deep breath. I looked at her and I knew she was trying to hold it together. I could tell she was trying to be strong for me, but I almost wanted her to cry and break out of her stagnant emotions. I just wanted her to crack. I wanted her emotions to stop strangling her. I missed her bold reactions to anything. Mom drove on in silence and soon enough we were on the highway headed towards South Philly.

Blinding lights and car horns surrounded me on a one way path, yet I felt alone. At the time, my mom was a piece of furniture. She sat still, stared straight, and occupied some space. Mentally, she was somewhere else. I couldn't help but reminisce of a time where everything was okay. I remembered being ten years old and crabbing at Nanny's shore house in the summertime. I could feel the heat and smell the salt. She would pull out numerous cages on her dock filled with tiny crabs and I would jump around in amazement. I pictured pulling the chain out of the water with her and hearing all of the crabs dance and chatter inside of the metal cage. She would boil them off in a pot of water while I had to bathe in her tiny outdoor shower. Afterwards, I would sit on her porch waiting for her crab spaghetti to be cooked. She hung the laundry on the line humming and singing songs to herself while my parents tried to help my younger brothers fish. Summers always ended with big, bright fireworks in the sky and hugs and kisses goodbye. I must have daydreamed for a half an hour before my mom pulled up to her house. I was awakened by the opening of the car door and then it hit me: it was time to see my nanny, possibly one last time.

I hopped out of my warm haven on to the street. I looked at my mom.

"Are you alright, Ma?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

That must have been the most brief conversation I have ever had with my mom. Her eyes were sunken in. I knew we were about to experience the inevitable, but that didn't mean that I wanted to. Sure, I'm glad I was going to see her before she died, but seeing her like this was going to be different. I wasn't going to see the great grandmother I developed a relationship with. Hell, I was lucky I had one. Most people don't even get to meet their great grandmother let alone befriend them. I just didn't want this image to stay locked in my head. I wanted the image of my 4'8" nanny with a tiny tummy and a loud mouth to be the one. I accompanied my mom as we walked against the cold wind all the way to her massive, wooden door. We knocked a couple of times before my mom's Aunt Mary opened the door.

"Hi Guys. Nan's upstairs." We responded with a hello, brushed past her, and walked into her living room. In the living room was my grandmother, my aunt Rita, my mom's cousin Chris, and Nanny's caretaker Wendy. I plopped myself right next to Aunt Rita on the couch while Mom headed straight up the stairs to see Nanny. "Ann, you alright? Want me to go with you?" Aunt Rita shouted. "No, I'll be fine" my mom responded as she kept walking. After that, I sunk into my Aunt's shoulder as she held me and rubbed my back. It was all far too much for me. I looked around the room and Chris seemed to be alright. My grandmother and Aunt Mary seemed a bit upset, but they held it together quite nicely. I was especially proud of my grandmother since she was mentally ill and bipolar. I didn't think her response to her mother dying was going to be so positive. Wendy and Aunt Rita seemed to be upset, as well, but they looked like they were fresh out of tears. It almost felt like we all let a big sigh simultaneously. We needed something to break the silence. Then Chris got up and opened my Nan's closet door.

Chris pulled out a tiny brown hat, a dark blue knitted hat, and a green hat with a feather. He put one on my head, the other on Aunt Rita's, and plopped the dark blue one on his head. He put it on and looked super goofy in it. We all ended up chuckling at each other and switched around hats. Chris went on and on about how he remembered the blue hat and how she would wear it on cold days walking to church. Multiple stories were shared about each hat from my Aunt Mary and Grandmother. In that time of sadness, it was as if God relieved some of our pain. I didn't think I was going to be able to smile at all today, but little things like sharing stories about her made smiling worthwhile. In that moment, I felt okay, so I worked up the nerve to go upstairs and see my nanny. I pushed myself off of her couch and headed up the stairs.

I hesitated before entering her room, but I saw my mom at her bedside and went in. I looked at her and her dark, Sicilian skin was no longer tan. She looked like a watercolor painting, washed out and smeared. Her eyes looked as if she was ready to fall asleep for eternity. Her body was the size of an overgrown toddler. She turned her head to look at me and she smiled. I was in awe of her. Her white cotton night gown made her look like an angel from heaven. I held her hand like one would hold a delicate flower. I was afraid to hurt her. She looked so dainty and fragile, but she put her raisin-like hand in mine. Maybe, I thought to myself, this is how I wanted to remember my great grandmother. I wanted to remember her being dainty and fragile, because in the past, she wasn't always this way. She used to be everywhere at once, finding random spots in her house for her pointless trinkets. She used to order my mom and aunt around. They loved her, but that doesn't mean they weren't annoyed with her at times. I knew quickly that her old house, filled with mismatched furniture and the smell of burnt cookies, would soon be empty and odorless. Mesmerized by her ability to live on this earth for 95 years, I let go of her hand and sat on her bed. It wasn't because I was sad, it was because I was impressed. Her life was meaningful; she lived for so long. She touched us, held us, and yelled at us, and through all of it, I wouldn't take any of it back.

It seemed as if the rest of my family marched into her room right on cue. Aunt Mary held Nanny's hand and stroked it with her thumb. Aunt Rita and Mom seemed to be focused on her, but they didn't look too sad. Chris stood in the corner with his hand on his chin. Wendy let out gentle tears. Yes, it was sad seeing my nanny live off of a machine, pale as a ghost and as thin as a sheet of paper, but I wasn't too upset. Actually, I felt comfortable. For the past couple of years, my nanny's health was declining, and there were times before where the doctor said she would take her last breath. She told them it wouldn't be. She was stubborn as hell. She always called the shots. For once, I felt that my nanny knew it was time and accepted it. No human is invincible. God was calling on Grace to start a new life above. I heard Aunt Rita ask "Nan, are you ready to see God?" and she looked so sweetly at my Aunt and shook her head yes. I knew it was time and because of that, I was no longer sad. I was content.

Everything was planned. The funeral would be that Thursday at her home church. My aunts, mom, and I would clear the house for her and send out the invitations. Everything seemed flawless. I was told I had to sing Amazing Grace on her dying day ever since I was a young girl. Not because it was a beautiful song, or that she really enjoyed it, but because her name was Grace and she was amazing. She knew what she wanted - even at her funeral. She never lost her sense of humor. Then she closed her eyes. It was a much longer period of time. We sat in silence. The sound of the machine filled the room. Her chest, once moving up and down, stayed still. Her mouth hung slightly open. Aunt Rita checked her pulse and declared she no longer felt it. My Aunt Mary covered her body in the blanket and let out silent tears.

Nanny looked like a porcelain doll. Her body became tinier than it once was; her body was a shriveled flower. Despite the somber moment, it looked like everyone could finally breathe again because they knew my nanny's fate. Before her death, we used to kid around and say that one day she would meet God at his throne and tell him to move over. I knew death wasn't a laughing matter, but I couldn't help but smile. Her battle to breathe was over, and she definitely didn't lose. She was able to breathe for 95 years. After a short amount of time, my mother and I gathered our things and left her house. The color returned to my mother's face. The harsh wind earlier that night didn't seem as cold this time. My nanny was finally saved from her pain and her waiting game. I couldn't help but look up into the starry sky and tell myself I have one more angel looking over me - my saving Grace, my amazing Grace.



Alyssa is currently a junior studying English with a focus in Writing. She enjoys music, theater and being surrounded by her family and friends, including her dogs Jazzy and Brutis.