Sour Blindness

I arose to another typical morning. A beautiful day that I actually had off work. Matt took off as well because he was going to catch up on some sleep. We went to DMV first off, not really something most people look forward to, but we both had things that we needed to take care of. We were just finishing up there, when I recieved a text message from my mom, asking me to please call, that it was an emergency.
Of all the emergencies that crossed my mind in those couple minutes before I actually pressed the send button, none had even come close to the news. I thought, maybe it could be Sport, my lil chihauhua, or maybe my dad had had some sort of accident, or my brother who was in california just yesterday might be ill. When I called, and actually heard the voice of my Mother. She was trying to cover up her estacticness with some sort of calm, which was easily uncovered. There was something very wrong.
The night before my grandmother passed away it was my cousins wedding. Her grandson. And the weekend before that she got to watch her youngest son of 43 walk down the isle and get married for the first time. She was in perfect health, we all thought, and was looking almost more beautiful than ever.
Her car was parked right up next to the walk way to the screened porch where her and my grandfather, who has also passed, spent a lot of time together. I remember hanging out there on the porch when I was a young child. She taught me how to play rummie and chinease checkers, things that you'll never forget that you're grandmother spent time teaching you. It was raining that night when she came home, and the first sign of distress was that you could tell she was in some sort of rush or panic. Her windshield wiper blades were half way up on her winshield. The yellow rose from the reception was in the back seat of her car, along with her umbrealla which was tossed down right before the screen porch door. She usually never locked her door, but she did that night.
An entire day must have gone by and when no one could reach her, or she didnt show up for church, family had no reason to, but out of spite arose some minor worries over my grandmother. Her youngest son, Charlie, and his newly wed wife Sally went to check on her, and when no one came to answer the door, he immediately ran to the bedroom window and started shouting inward. There was still no response, although he could see her laying there in bed propped up with the covers pulled up tight and her mouth wide open like she were in a deep sleep. He finally had no choice but to break through the window and with that, found his mother dead in her bed.
Sally called 911 and the entire family rushed to the house. The investagators and medical examiners did their job, and seemed to easily rule out any foul play, dispite the good health that my grandmother was in.
I never expected anything like this any time soon, and I regret my unpreparedness, and almost unappreation that I had for my relationship with my grandmother. Things were getting better, and I hadn't had a poor thought of her in a long while. I felt like I was becomming closer with my grandmother, in some large part because my cousin Ashleigh and I have become very close with each other. I could see that even though my grandmother might not have always approved of either one of us, she accepted and respected that we had such a strong family bond with eachother, and it allowed us to feel more comfortable around her. My regrets are that I couldnt have stood up for myself earlier on, and realized that everyone is going to look at you in their own way. It was hard through for me and as well for Ashleigh to see our own grandmother to think unhighly of us. I constantly felt like I had done something completely wrong in my life, either by not going to college, or not finishing college, or not cutting up my food properly, or not sitting up straight enough, or not smileing wide enough even when I didnt want to. Maybe I wasn't pretty enough, or maybe she thought that I didnt know how pretty I actually was. Reguardless of what ever the problem was, she seemed to focus and to point out, even non intentionally, or not even verbally. She was a very hard person to read, and sometimes hard to get along with, But no matter what kind of person she was, I know that she loved me, and I loved her. I know that it felt so so so good to hug her, she would always hug me SOOOo hard, even when I was younger. Sometimes it felt like my head was going to pop off cause she hugged me so tight. I am not sure if it was because maybe I had hugged her too hard a time or two before, and didnt know it, and she was just making her point across that she wanted to make me feel how it felt to be hugged to the extreme? She had a weird way of communicating with you and maybe that was just her way of holding her toung most of the time. I think that she might had been happier if she had spoken out more. I remember her pimmento cheese sandwhiches, and how I was so confussed when watching her make them, wondering how in the hell something so weird was going to apparently be good tasteing. The chappadoo hand lotion which the recipe was passed down from generations from my great great great uncle or something who was a pharmasist and developed his own dry skin relief remedy. She made the best pickled watermellon rine that I'd ever had, although I don't know of anyone else that has ever made such a thing. It was probably the only food that my brother and I would fight over and NEVER stop when we were younger. The memories are unbelieveable, and so is this feeling of wearyness.
I just dont understand how someone in such good health could pass so quickly with out even a hint of distress. I'd like to be at peace with the idea that it was "natural" and that she was peaceful, but I just wish that I knew what she was feeling and thinking that night that I saw her at the reception.
I remember talking with her and actually shareing my passions with her. And to my suprise she was supportive and enchanted at the fact that I was so passionate about something. She was encourageing, and I feel like I broke through and saw a new person inside of her. I used to think that her and mother were exactly the same, and that I'd never be able to live up to my own mothers expectations. It's a hard thing to deal with, always trying to be good enough for your own mother. But after Saturday night, I had hope, for my mother and my relationship to be able to grow, and for us to be able to share passions and express ourselves with out me always wondering if I am good enough.