Every time could be the last time

The last time I saw Grandma, I helped her to her seat in the back of Gramp’s white Oldsmobile sedan where she had taken to be seated as her disease took her away and it never really mattered to her where she sat or where she went or what she was doing – it never seemed to us, especially later as time wore on and she left us piece by piece, memory by memory – well, it never seemed to us that she had any idea where she was or what she was doing or whether she was at home watching one of Gramp’s fishing shows on cable, or finishing a crossword puzzle as she loved to do, or living somewhere in her head far away where everything is peaceful, like being semi-asleep, or longing to sleep – I saw her that last time when I picked up her light body and shifted her inward so we could seatbelt her so she wouldn’t fall over as Gramp turned the corner.  

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About the author: Anthony Buccino has written several collections about life and growing up in and around Belleville, New Jersey.  He also created Old Belleville, a web site of local history.

 For more information, www.anthonybuccino.com

 Copyright 2011 by Anthony Buccino – used by permission.