my great grandmother is dying and i am going on a hinge date
a piece from october
Wednesday: My Great Grandmother is Dying and I am Going on a Hinge Date
I call her while I eat my breakfast. A polite text from a cute guy who asked for my number pops up, asking if I want to go out sometime soon. She complains she hasn’t been able to eat a lot lately other than applesauce, in response to me showing her my oatmeal. I respond to his text while we chat, I am free Friday morning I say. I tell my great grandmother I am supposed to go on a climbing trip soon. I explain that I will crawl up on a large rock and then crawl back down again. She says that sounds scary, questions if I should do it. I laugh and assure her I will be secured in a harness, no need to worry. He texts me that works perfectly, how's 11? I tell my great grandmother to have a lovely day and she tells me she will see me at Christmas.
I know that isn’t true.
I hang up and tell the guy that 11 works. That part is true.
Friday: My Great Grandmother is Dead and I am Going on a Hinge Date
My mother calls me at 3:30am. She tells me what I already know. I turn my grief into annoyance at her. I sob for a while, feeling silly when the thought that my eyes will be puffy for my date enters my mind. I think about cancelling, but somehow a family death seems too cliche. I sleep a couple of hours, restlessly. I put on a layer of mascara attempting to cover the sadness.
He’s a really nice guy. I think he’s cute and I suspect he thinks I am too. My great grandmother was very pretty for a lady of 98. He pays for my Persian Fog. I wonder how my great grandparents met. I realise I may never know. We sit down at a corner table. I wonder if he knows his grandparents, his great grandparents. We lived in the same student residence. There’s an immediate, albeit weird, sense of camaraderie because of that. My great grandmother has never been to Canada, she will never see this residence. I tell him about my decision to move here. I leave out the sourness of guilt I feel when bad things happen at home, and I am not there to help. He asks me about Denmark and Singapore. My great grandmother never understood how we were able to FaceTime her despite living so far away from her. The idea that the cord attached to her iPad should somehow reach across Asia and the oceans seemed crazy. He talks in percentages, he’d say 15% of his friends stayed after graduating, it's a funny quirk. My great grandmother was like a human calculator – any equation and she could tell you the answer without writing it down. He graduated in the spring, so I ask him what he’s doing now. My great grandmother never graduated high school. She really wanted to but girls from 1925 were sent to work after getting confirmed. He tells me about a road trip he went on. I realise I have never seen my great grandmother drive a car and now never will. He talks about being able to drive back home. I realise if I could drive back home I wouldn’t be sitting here. I feel strangely jealous and strangely at peace. We’ve been here for four hours. I can’t tell if he’s trying to find a reason to leave like I am, not because I am not having a good time, but because I want to go cry.
He tells me he had a really nice time. I tell him I’d love to see him again.
By the time we see each other again, my great grandmother’s casket will have been carried out of a church I will never set foot in, put into a car I will never see, and be driven off by a man in a suit whose face I don’t know. A wake attended by people I love will have taken place, I will only witness it through photographs. My family will have gathered to drink coffee and have cake after the service. Crying, laughing, sharing stories about a woman whom I have always known. I have been on this earth for almost 22 years and I have never been on it without her. When you die at 98 it is not tragic, nor unexpected. Nonetheless I am crying.
He’s a really nice guy. He follows up, tells me he had a great time again, texts me when he’s free next.
By the time we go for dinner and drinks and whatever else that entails, my great grandmother's corpse will have been burnt in a crematorium. Her only earthly remains neatly collected in an urn that will not be lowered into the ground until I have flown back home.
My mother texts me that I can prepare a speech if I want and she will read it out loud for me at the service. I sit down to write it but end up writing this instead.
I text him my next week will be busy, too busy to go out, but I would love to see him soon.
I would love to see my great grandmother soon too.
pretending that this didn't make me cry
❤️