Busia

This morning I got a phone call from my younger sister-in-law, Dani. I said: HELLO. She said: HI, HOW WAS DISNEY?

I didn’t catch on right away that there was something wrong, and so I told her that we had a great time, it was really hot ….. and then she bursts into tears and starts sobbing. When I asked her what was wrong she blurted out that Busia is unresponsive, doesn’t have a pulse, the rescue squad was there working on her, she can’t get her parents on the phone, and she needs to talk to my husband.

Oh. My. God. I thought to myself, this cannot be happening!

Busia is my husband’s 91 year old grandmother. She’s been in and out of the hospital over the past few months, and she’s always bounced back. She and her four sisters have longevity in their genes, with her oldest sister living to be 101. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Busia? Unresponsive? No pulse? Today?

Today. Right this minute. And the only person Dani could get ahold of was me.

Me.

Now I have to tell you that Busia and I didn’t really see eye to eye. There were times that in the beginning of my marriage that I really thought we connected, but somewhere along the way something changed. I’m sure she liked me in her own way. But for the most part, from my point of view, I felt that she didn’t. My husband told me that he thinks Busia and I didn’t get along because we were too much alike. That might have been true. I don’t know.

Regardless, Busia was unresponsive, Dani was at the point of a meltdown, and I had to react. I told her that I was on my way. I got in touch with my husband, couldn’t think of how to put it and ended up blurting out: I THINK BUSIA DIED. And even at the time it seemed like the most ridiculous thing to say: I think Busia died. Who says that they think that someone died?

He made it to her apartment before I did, and they were just giving him the okay to go up when I walked into the lobby. We went up together. Both of us. Making small chit chat in the elevator with two little old ladies.

We walked into the living room, and there she was, lying on the living room floor, her head resting on a pillow and a sheet covering her to her shoulders. The rest of the morning was so surreal. My in-laws arrived, and my husband’s aunt was there too.

There were questions from the police that were there: What was Busia’s middle name? Gosh, I have no idea. We all looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders.

Did we call everyone?

She got up this morning, seemed to be find, ate her breakfast, took a nap and died while she was sleeping, yet how come she was on the living room floor?

When all of the emergency response teams were gone, we were left waiting for the funeral home to come. We talked in the living room, discussing plans and who to contact, and things like that, and the whole time Busia was just laying there on the living room floor. And part of me really wanted to reach down pull the sheet over Busia’s face, like they do in the movies when someone dies.

Then two people arrived from the funeral home, the director and his apprentice. The apprentice was a young girl, very professional looking, dressed in nice dress pants and a blazer jacket. They gave us the option of leaving the room while they put Busia on the cot to carry her out to the hearse (which was actually a minivan). I looked at my husband and told him that I would do whatever he did. If he wanted to go into another room I would go with him, but if he wanted to stay, then I would stay with him. He said he’d do whatever everyone else did. My father-in-law said we were staying.

The funeral director went on to explain how they were going to position Busia onto a sheet, and then lift the sheet onto the cot. He asked if someone would be able to support her head as they were lifting and my husband bent down and cupped his grandmother’s head into his hands. The funeral director, his apprentice, my mother-in-law, and my husband all lifted Busia onto the cot, and in that single moment I completely lost it and the tears started to flow. It was so heartbreaking to see my husband help to place his grandmother onto the cot, and ultimately into a body bag. And as they zipped it shut the reality of what was happening really hit.

God brought comic relief though, because that young apprentice had quite the tattoo right across the small of her back, and when she squatted down in front of me to position Busia on the sheet her jacket rode up and I could see the artwork. I think it said: Dreams Come True, but I don’t know for sure. I let out a snicker and pointed to her back while looking up at my husband, trying my best to give him my look that said: DID YOU SEE THIS???? Through his tears he smiled back, he saw it.

After they left, we tried our best to put the apartment back into order for his aunt who lives there too. My husband turned to me and said: DO YOU THINK YOU COULD VACUUM? I think just about everyone knows that I love to vacuum, so I found the vacuum and I did just that. I vacuumed that entire apartment, the whole time thinking to myself: My husband’s grandmother just died, has been lying on the floor in the living room while I sat on her couch, and now I’m vacuuming.

(I want to say that I write in my blog about things that happen in my life. This is what happened today. It’s not meant to be disrepectful. I loved Busia, we didn’t really get along, but I did love her. She was my husband’s grandmother, and she will be greatly missed.)