Date: Sat, 21 Jul 2012 01:39:24 -0400
From: Jesse Jesse <gmmac1987@hotmail.com>
Subject: Being Seen, Pt 8

	Christmas was gone for another year, exchanging the evenings filled
with the warm glow of lights and music, trees and food, for the long,
bitter days of January and February. Winter was always particularly
depressing for me, being constantly trapped in a house wracked by the
bickering and warring of two parents at odds, but that winter brought more
depression at times than I'd ever known. It's amazing how dependent we
become on those around us, most especially those that bring us security and
happiness. How I loathed those long winter days when I sat by the bay
window of our kitchen, just waiting for that moment in the evenings when
Seth's truck would come rumbling down the snow-covered road from
work. Though many kids welcome those snow days when school is canceled, for
me they were torture. I couldn't quite put my finger on what I felt was
really going on, but it had seemed for some time that my friends, those few
that I had, had been treating me different. I'd grown accustomed to the
pointing and snide smirks of those in the social crowds of town who were in
the know about the truth between my parents, but with my few friends it was
different. Maybe it was the times when I'd stumbled upon them whispering
behind my back, feeling sure I'd heard them call my name and mention
something about "a guy," or maybe it was the way their parents suddenly
didn't want them coming to visit me any more. Kyle McLachlan had been my
best friend for teen of my almost sixteen years on this earth, even with my
parents constantly fighting, spending many nights over with me, and I going
to his house for pool parties, but lately it seemed he didn't have much to
say any more. The last time I'd invited him down to the river house for
some fishing he'd shook his head and mumbled something about "his mom
wanting him to come home and help her in the yard," or some excuse. Perhaps
it was all my imagination, but more and more I began to feel totally alone,
with the exception of my family and loved ones at the farm. So it was that
I spent those lonely winter days by the window, nothing but the local radio
DJ to keep me company, waiting for Seth to come stumbling in the door from
a hard day's work. Though my heart ached to be with him, I tried
desperately not to allow Seth to see how depressed I truly was. It was his
fault, after all. Jeb had been taken ill with a dreadful bout of pneumonia
just after Christmas, and Seth had had to help bridge the gap of chores
done by the missing overseer of the farm and business. This, in and of
itself, caused another pain to form a vice around my heart; Seth and I had
no time for intimacy any more. It was not an uncommon thing for Seth to
stumble through the door on those snowy evenings, so tired that he could
not stay awake long enough to eat supper. Many evenings I would chatter
away to him from the kitchen (I'd been trying to spend some of my time
studying cookbooks and recipes), only to find him sound sleep on the
sofa. All in all, though I loved Seth with all my heart, being only fifteen
and still very immature, this proved to be one of the most distressing
times in my life. But it was not the worst of winter's gloom.

	I was awakened that bitter morning extremely early, so early that
Seth had not even woken to prepare himself for his still ever-growing list
of work to be done, by sharp raps on the door. Though my mind was groggy
and in a fog of being awakened from a sound slumber, it instantly cleared
in a swirl of horror by the look on the farmhand's face. He didn't even
have to speak for me to understand the news that had brought him so early
in the morning. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to speak. "Is she gone yet?"
The young farmhand appeared to hardly be any older than me, his voice
shaking as he spoke. Tears streamed down his own face. "No sir, but the
doctor say's if you want to see her alive, you should hurry." My mind began
to swirl and rush. Should I wake Seth? Should I take anything to her,
keepsakes or anything? Finally I regained enough concentration to find my
way through the dimly-lit house to roust Seth from his
sleep. "Seth........Seth......" "Mmmm?" "Seth it's Gram. Seth, she's
dying. I don't know what's happened yet, but the doctor's up at the
house. We've gotta go." He was up in an instant, his eyes wide with
fear. The short ride from the river house to the main farmhouse seemed an
eternity, my heart jumping and breaking at the same instant. Would she
still be alive? Would I be too late? What would I say to her? Seth drove in
silence, stealing an occasional worried glance at me from the corner of his
eyes. Finally we pulled up in the yard of the main house. Feeble light from
one upstairs window fought weakly against the early morning darkness. I
couldn't even wait for Seth to bring the truck to a stop, jumping from the
cab and rushing into the house, but stopped just short of the door at the
sight that lay before me. The elderly Doctor King sat glumly by the beside,
his hand holding Gram's. Mustering every bit of courage I could pull, I
allowed myself to pass through the open door into the room. Upon seeing me
Doctor King stood, attempting to halt me before I reached Gram's bed, but
his face told me everything I needed to know. Fresh tears flowed freely
down my cheeks as I brushed past him and said down to take Gram's hand. I
stared at the lifeless face. Gram's eyes were closed, but there was
something different about her face, something that I'd never seen
before. It was as if, though barely noticeable, her face seemed somewhat
disproportionate, almost ever so slightly twisted. "How long?" I was
surprised by the emotion in Doctor King's voice as he replied. "Just a
moment ago." I turned to face the elderly man. "How?" Doctor King heaved a
great sigh. "Jessie, son, there's something I have to tell you, something
your grandmother made me swear to keep from you until she was gone." A lump
formed in my throat. What new and more dreadful news could Doctor King be
harboring. "What is it doctor?" "Jessie your grandmother did have early
stages of dementia, but that was not her cause of
death. She............your grandmother died of a stroke. This was not her
first." "Not her first? You mean there've been more?" The elderly man's
blue eyes moistened. "Yes. Your grandmother has had a series of strokes
throughout her life. Before her death, the last one was about three years
ago. She's had dangerously high blood pressure and cholesterol for years. I
pleaded with her and begged her to do something about it, to just change a
little something about her diet, but she wouldn't hear of it. Jessie I'm so
sorry about this. I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that I've tried
desperately with your grandmother, but she was a strong-willed woman, and
when she made her mind up, well......." Though my heart broke at the sight
of my petite grandmother's form lying in the bed, a surprising laugh arose
at Doctor King's words. "Yes, yes she was very strong-willed."

	It is amazing how, though certain moments and experiences during a
death linger with us for the rest of our lives, the days following, the
viewings and funerals seem to fly by in a blur of surreality. That is just
what happened with Gram's viewing and funeral. Though I spent many a
sleepless night mourning Gram's passing, the days immediately following her
death rushed by in what seemed one continuous blur of condolences, phone
calls, and services. Finally came the day after her burial, the day when
life "started moving on." Though Jeb was still not quite capable of
performing all of his duties again, Seth insisted he stay home with me. It
seemed fate had played some cruel ironic joke as I'd bemoaned to myself the
fact that he was constantly away before, and now that he was home with me,
it was because of such a tragedy. How wonderful Seth was to me during that
time of grieving and mourning! Though even I knew he had work and duties he
should have been performing, he would not be forced out of the house,
spending countless hours simply holding me tightly and securely in his
arms. Not a morning went by that I was not awakened to a steaming hot
breakfast on the table. My clothes were laid out, even my bath water
drawn. It seemed as if, though he could not take away the pain in my heart,
Seth was determined to do everything else possible to make life a little
less painful. But though I grieved and missed Gram terribly, my grief
eventually morphed into something far worse; resentment. It wasn't that I
resented the fact that Grandma was gone. No, my resentment had been spawned
over something I considered far harder to release, something I considered
unforgivable; the fact that once again neither my parents had bothered to
pay their respects. I suppose I was naïve, but even with everything that
had transpired between my grandparents, myself, and my parents, I still
believed they would attend Gram's funeral. After all, my father was her own
flesh and blood child! How could a son not be bothered to attend his own
mother's funeral!? Damn them!