Starting today, my visits to Grace will be almost on a daily basis, and until she becomes dependent on machines and morphine to make her final days more comfortable for her until she surrenders to her battle with brain cancer, will take place at her home. The visits will be very different for me, as I will have little time to prepare for them like I have become accustom to on our weekly visits on Wednesdays.
Wednesdays are the one day of the week that I have no classes, and I am not interning at a local grade school, teaching third and fourth grade students the art of the English language. It's a gig that occupies my time from 1pm to 3pm on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The hard part of this new visiting schedule will be spending two hours with kids Grace's age, who are very much alive and well. I enjoy these two hours of my day, observing the students at their very best, and sometimes their very worse. Thirty-seven students in all, between the two classes, and all of them lead a very different life than my little Gracie.
Grace would be in the third grade, if she were able to attend classes. At times I find myself watching my students, wondering about all that Grace has missed out on by fighting her battle with her disease. It is something Grace and I talk about a lot, where would she be today, if she were leading the normal life of a healthy eight year old. I assure her she is just as smart as my students, not only book smart, but street smart too. Grace may not be able to pull a noun out of a sentence, or insert an adjective on a moments notice, but she has a lot of knowledge about things most eight year old's may never experience in their lifetimes.
I know I have to visit Grace as often as I can, because our time is being limited by mere weeks, if not days. My only option at this time, is to do it after I am done with my students for the day. It is about a 20 minute drive from the school to Grace's house, not near enough time to come to grips with leaving an environment where kids are busy learning their studies, but also building friendship verses spending time in Grace's environment, documenting her final days. Friendships are one of the things Grace has struggled with since she was no longer able to attend classes. The few friendship she did make in her short time attending school, have since faded away. Her friendships now are limited to other children with cancer, that go to the cancer center for treatments. Each time I visited her at the center, she would update me on the progress of the other children. She would tell me about this one or that one, that she no longer sees. How she questions the nurses about their whereabouts, and gets no answers. "I know though Jett, that I will see them soon." She would tell me. She doesn't have to speak the words to me for me understand that she is saying she will see them in heaven, because they have lost their final battle.
I am not uncomfortable going to Grace's house to spend time with her. I have been here a few times before, and I know the layout well. She is an only child, yet her possessions are few. It's not like her parents can not, or will not, give her all the things she wants. She has told me before that shortly after her parents told her that she would not survive what she is going through, she gave almost all of her things away. "Why did you to that Grace? Why would you give away the things that are yours?" I asked this because I really did not understand why she would possibly feel the need to do this. "The less things I have now, the less things my mommy and daddy will have to figure out what to do with." She is so matter of fact in this response, it almost makes me feel bad for owning anything at all, because someday, everything we have will no longer matter.
Grace is pretty spunky today, and tells me when I see her that today is a happy day for her. "Why?" I ask. "Today is the first Monday in almost a whole year that I do not have to be at the center." I wondered if she realized that I, and I am sure her parents, were not looking at this the same way she was. Her deciding she was done with the chemo and radiation treatments to shrink her tumors, meant her doctors would be able to put a time frame on her time on earth. When I do not show signs of glee for her reasoning on this being a happy day, she is quick to scold me. "We knew this Jett" , she says to me, "do not be sad for me." She almost seemed upset with me, but I know she understands this is not easy for anyone.
I had stopped on the way and picked up a jelly doughnut with frosting for Grace. She had not ever had a jelly doughnut before that she could remember and it was written on one of her bucket lists. Today she would get to cross it off. We sit in her kitchen and I put her doughnut on a plate and pour her a glass of milk. I sit across from Grace, and she stares at her treat. "This does not look like a doughnut Jett. Where is the jelly?" She asks. "It's called a jelly roll, but it is a form of doughnut. The jelly is inside the doughnut Grace. When you take a bite into it, you will see what is in the center of it." She studies the doughnut. "Tell me a story about your favorite doughnut Jett." I like that I am able to offer her things to cross off her bucket list, and I like that I can amuse her with my stories.
I try to impress her with the Misfits doughnut craze. How on occasion we have doughnuts for breakfast. How my dad will run in the mornings and sometimes on the weekends will bring home a couple dozen doughnuts, all shapes and sizes. I told her how I hold the record for the most doughnuts and glasses of milk drank in one setting. "How many did you eat?" She asks me. "Well, I ate seven doughnuts and had 3 glasses of milk." I tell her. She has just taken a bite of her jelly doughnut and stops and stares at me with her mouth open and her doughnut hanging midair between her mouth and her plate. Her eyes are opened wide and she slowly chews the bite she has taken. "Did they all have jelly in the middles of them?" She asks, as if that would make me holding the Misfits house record more appealing. "No, not all of them did, some of them had white cream frosting in the middle." I smile inside as I watch her stare at me like I just told her she won the lottery. She swallows the bite of doughnut she has been chewing, looks me in the eyes, and says, "that is just amazing to me."
She has me retrieve the bag she packs when she goes to get her treatments that contain her notebooks. She pulls out her notebook of lists, and uncaps her pen, crossing off "jelly doughnut" from the list of foods she has yet to eat. She puts her things back in her bag and finishes her milk. "What would you like to do next today Grace?" I ask. She ponders this question for a few seconds and says "We need to talk Jett." My heart sinks a little, because I can tell by her tone she is going to prepare me for something regarding her newly aquired time frame. "We need to visit every day Jett, or we will run out of time for me to tell you my story. Do you pinky swear you will come to me everyday?" It is more of an order than anything else. "I will do my best Grace, but you have to be honest about the rest you need. It is important to me that you do not push your need for sleep aside." If you pinky swear me on that, I will pinky swear you back." We hug pinky's and the bond is sealed.
She is tired now, but she wants to dictate more of her story to me. We decided that she will lay on the sofa, and I will sit on the floor with my back resting against the sofa, as she tells me what she wants everyone to know when she is gone. She talks, and I write. Every few sentences she asks me to read her what I have written. This is another one of our routines when we visit. Today I tease her and when I read back her words, I add in "and my friend Jett is the most handsome boy I know". She giggles, and continues to dictate to me, adding her own little sentence "and if I could marry anyone in the world right now, I would marry ... I would marry ... I would marry George." I turn and smile at my little angel, and remind her "George doesn't even know how to drive. He would be a horrible husband." She laughs, because she knows I want to be the boy she wants to marry. We finish writing for the day. Grace is getting sleepy and I cover her up with a blanket and sit back down resting against the sofa. I feel Grace's tiny hand in my hair, and she tells me it is too long, and I should get it cut. Could she go with me when I get it cut? I assure her that we can arrange that and she reminds me, we should do it soon, before she has to check into the hospital. She continues to run her fingers through my hair and I just let my mind absorb the feeling, because I want to remember this moment when it is long gone and cannot be duplicated. As she talks to me I can hear her voice dragging a bit, getting close to falling asleep. It turns into whispers as she thanks me for the 'very yummy' jelly doughnut today. I ask her if she would like me to take her to her own bed, where she might be able to rest more comfortably. "I would like that please", she says. I pick her up and carry her into her room and put her on her bed. I cover her up and tell her I will be back tomorrow, and I will have a surprise for her, so she should make sure she gets plenty of rest so she is feeling her best. I get that tired smile she gives with her eyes half closed. I lean down to kiss this tiny sweet angels cheek. She whispers to me, "Jett?" "Yes Grace?" I respond. "I wish you could come with me." I grab her tiny hand and hold it with my adult size hand. I remember the visit where Grace grabs my hand and states that "neither one of our hands will ever get any bigger". I close my eyes and feel our hands together. Another memory that someday I will not be able to duplicate? Or the thought of maybe if I hang on to this tiny hand I will somehow go with her as she wishes? "Do not be sad for me", she whispers, as she drifts off to sleep.
I leave for today with thoughts of returning again tomorrow and the surprise I will have for Grace. I whisper as I drive away, "I'm not sad for you Gracie, I am sad for me."
Wednesdays are the one day of the week that I have no classes, and I am not interning at a local grade school, teaching third and fourth grade students the art of the English language. It's a gig that occupies my time from 1pm to 3pm on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The hard part of this new visiting schedule will be spending two hours with kids Grace's age, who are very much alive and well. I enjoy these two hours of my day, observing the students at their very best, and sometimes their very worse. Thirty-seven students in all, between the two classes, and all of them lead a very different life than my little Gracie.
Grace would be in the third grade, if she were able to attend classes. At times I find myself watching my students, wondering about all that Grace has missed out on by fighting her battle with her disease. It is something Grace and I talk about a lot, where would she be today, if she were leading the normal life of a healthy eight year old. I assure her she is just as smart as my students, not only book smart, but street smart too. Grace may not be able to pull a noun out of a sentence, or insert an adjective on a moments notice, but she has a lot of knowledge about things most eight year old's may never experience in their lifetimes.
I know I have to visit Grace as often as I can, because our time is being limited by mere weeks, if not days. My only option at this time, is to do it after I am done with my students for the day. It is about a 20 minute drive from the school to Grace's house, not near enough time to come to grips with leaving an environment where kids are busy learning their studies, but also building friendship verses spending time in Grace's environment, documenting her final days. Friendships are one of the things Grace has struggled with since she was no longer able to attend classes. The few friendship she did make in her short time attending school, have since faded away. Her friendships now are limited to other children with cancer, that go to the cancer center for treatments. Each time I visited her at the center, she would update me on the progress of the other children. She would tell me about this one or that one, that she no longer sees. How she questions the nurses about their whereabouts, and gets no answers. "I know though Jett, that I will see them soon." She would tell me. She doesn't have to speak the words to me for me understand that she is saying she will see them in heaven, because they have lost their final battle.
I am not uncomfortable going to Grace's house to spend time with her. I have been here a few times before, and I know the layout well. She is an only child, yet her possessions are few. It's not like her parents can not, or will not, give her all the things she wants. She has told me before that shortly after her parents told her that she would not survive what she is going through, she gave almost all of her things away. "Why did you to that Grace? Why would you give away the things that are yours?" I asked this because I really did not understand why she would possibly feel the need to do this. "The less things I have now, the less things my mommy and daddy will have to figure out what to do with." She is so matter of fact in this response, it almost makes me feel bad for owning anything at all, because someday, everything we have will no longer matter.
Grace is pretty spunky today, and tells me when I see her that today is a happy day for her. "Why?" I ask. "Today is the first Monday in almost a whole year that I do not have to be at the center." I wondered if she realized that I, and I am sure her parents, were not looking at this the same way she was. Her deciding she was done with the chemo and radiation treatments to shrink her tumors, meant her doctors would be able to put a time frame on her time on earth. When I do not show signs of glee for her reasoning on this being a happy day, she is quick to scold me. "We knew this Jett" , she says to me, "do not be sad for me." She almost seemed upset with me, but I know she understands this is not easy for anyone.
I had stopped on the way and picked up a jelly doughnut with frosting for Grace. She had not ever had a jelly doughnut before that she could remember and it was written on one of her bucket lists. Today she would get to cross it off. We sit in her kitchen and I put her doughnut on a plate and pour her a glass of milk. I sit across from Grace, and she stares at her treat. "This does not look like a doughnut Jett. Where is the jelly?" She asks. "It's called a jelly roll, but it is a form of doughnut. The jelly is inside the doughnut Grace. When you take a bite into it, you will see what is in the center of it." She studies the doughnut. "Tell me a story about your favorite doughnut Jett." I like that I am able to offer her things to cross off her bucket list, and I like that I can amuse her with my stories.
I try to impress her with the Misfits doughnut craze. How on occasion we have doughnuts for breakfast. How my dad will run in the mornings and sometimes on the weekends will bring home a couple dozen doughnuts, all shapes and sizes. I told her how I hold the record for the most doughnuts and glasses of milk drank in one setting. "How many did you eat?" She asks me. "Well, I ate seven doughnuts and had 3 glasses of milk." I tell her. She has just taken a bite of her jelly doughnut and stops and stares at me with her mouth open and her doughnut hanging midair between her mouth and her plate. Her eyes are opened wide and she slowly chews the bite she has taken. "Did they all have jelly in the middles of them?" She asks, as if that would make me holding the Misfits house record more appealing. "No, not all of them did, some of them had white cream frosting in the middle." I smile inside as I watch her stare at me like I just told her she won the lottery. She swallows the bite of doughnut she has been chewing, looks me in the eyes, and says, "that is just amazing to me."
She has me retrieve the bag she packs when she goes to get her treatments that contain her notebooks. She pulls out her notebook of lists, and uncaps her pen, crossing off "jelly doughnut" from the list of foods she has yet to eat. She puts her things back in her bag and finishes her milk. "What would you like to do next today Grace?" I ask. She ponders this question for a few seconds and says "We need to talk Jett." My heart sinks a little, because I can tell by her tone she is going to prepare me for something regarding her newly aquired time frame. "We need to visit every day Jett, or we will run out of time for me to tell you my story. Do you pinky swear you will come to me everyday?" It is more of an order than anything else. "I will do my best Grace, but you have to be honest about the rest you need. It is important to me that you do not push your need for sleep aside." If you pinky swear me on that, I will pinky swear you back." We hug pinky's and the bond is sealed.
She is tired now, but she wants to dictate more of her story to me. We decided that she will lay on the sofa, and I will sit on the floor with my back resting against the sofa, as she tells me what she wants everyone to know when she is gone. She talks, and I write. Every few sentences she asks me to read her what I have written. This is another one of our routines when we visit. Today I tease her and when I read back her words, I add in "and my friend Jett is the most handsome boy I know". She giggles, and continues to dictate to me, adding her own little sentence "and if I could marry anyone in the world right now, I would marry ... I would marry ... I would marry George." I turn and smile at my little angel, and remind her "George doesn't even know how to drive. He would be a horrible husband." She laughs, because she knows I want to be the boy she wants to marry. We finish writing for the day. Grace is getting sleepy and I cover her up with a blanket and sit back down resting against the sofa. I feel Grace's tiny hand in my hair, and she tells me it is too long, and I should get it cut. Could she go with me when I get it cut? I assure her that we can arrange that and she reminds me, we should do it soon, before she has to check into the hospital. She continues to run her fingers through my hair and I just let my mind absorb the feeling, because I want to remember this moment when it is long gone and cannot be duplicated. As she talks to me I can hear her voice dragging a bit, getting close to falling asleep. It turns into whispers as she thanks me for the 'very yummy' jelly doughnut today. I ask her if she would like me to take her to her own bed, where she might be able to rest more comfortably. "I would like that please", she says. I pick her up and carry her into her room and put her on her bed. I cover her up and tell her I will be back tomorrow, and I will have a surprise for her, so she should make sure she gets plenty of rest so she is feeling her best. I get that tired smile she gives with her eyes half closed. I lean down to kiss this tiny sweet angels cheek. She whispers to me, "Jett?" "Yes Grace?" I respond. "I wish you could come with me." I grab her tiny hand and hold it with my adult size hand. I remember the visit where Grace grabs my hand and states that "neither one of our hands will ever get any bigger". I close my eyes and feel our hands together. Another memory that someday I will not be able to duplicate? Or the thought of maybe if I hang on to this tiny hand I will somehow go with her as she wishes? "Do not be sad for me", she whispers, as she drifts off to sleep.
I leave for today with thoughts of returning again tomorrow and the surprise I will have for Grace. I whisper as I drive away, "I'm not sad for you Gracie, I am sad for me."
