Like A Doll

Mar 22, 2008 - 14:38 PM PST

The Young Man came to the Old Man seeking counsel.
I broke something, Old Man.
How badly is it broken?
It’s in a million little pieces.
I’m afraid I can’t help you.
Why?
There’s nothing you can do?
Why?
It can’t be fixed.
Why?
Its in a million little pieces.






Like a doll she sat up in her chair. Silent, but heard. Her hands are cold to the touch, cheeks a shade of rosy red. She’s the person you came to if you ever had a problem or if you wanted something new to learn. She’s my Granny, my great-grandma.
On a farm she lives with her eldest son. Coming up the gravel road, you’ll see the half falling collapsed barn where neighbours stole chickens years ago. Into the gravel driveway, an original chicken coop to your right. With old bikes and tools.
To your left, you’ll see the swing set that has been there years. I have fond memories of those swings. Being able to sit there forever and watch the world go by. Care-free. Back and fourth. Back and fourth. Back and fourth. Just feet from the swing set you’ll see the little white house. You walk in and you see her.
Like a doll she sat up in her chair. Silent, but heard. Her hands are cold to the touch, cheeks a shade of rosy red. Granny sat with a table full of food that she’d prepared why we were all on our little adventures. Lots of perogies waiting to be ate. The smell of fresh vegetables filled the air and made your stomach growl.
“Eat, eat,” she’d say in her Ukrainian accent, “you need to eat.” And so we ate, and we ate and we ate…and we ate a little bit more.
After we were done, she’d take me to her room where she’d get this big, blue case filled with old Barbie dolls and handmade clothes that she had sewed and knitted. My mom had played with the those Barbies when she was young. Opening up the case was like opening up time capsule. Everything was the same as it had always been. The smell. The clothes. Each Barbie had a special outfit to wear. A special blanket. Each one had a unique name. I lined them up along her blue and green checkered chesterfield glancing up at the television once and a while to watch the one channel she got, CBC. To my left there is a record player and my Granny tells me how it works. I am amazed at how it looks and it sounds. I put the Barbies to sleep, its time to go. I give my Granny a kiss and tell her I will see her soon.
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It’s near Valentine’s Day and something is wrong. Mom is crying and very upset. My brother notices right away and asks her what’s wrong.
“Granny’s not feeling very good. She’s in the hospital. They say she doesn‘t have many days left.”
My heart aches and I clench my teeth its not enough and I break down.

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We’re now singing “Amazing Grace” and my tears are running uncontrollably. My heart feels like its been ripped out and shattered. My dad holds my hand, but I feel there is no use. Nothing will ever replace the broken pieces. I told her I would see her again. I feel like I have so much to learn, but I’m out of time. I wasted my time. I want more time. It’s too late and now all I have is memories. Memories of my Granny and how much she contributed to our family, our history. Providing knowledge, perogies, stories, and love. I try to think of all these things, but there are so much to remember so I write them down in my brain and take note of each one of them. One day, I will need them.