Writings and Reflections

Killing Grandma

by Lloyd B. Abrams

"Here, Grandma. Drink this."

Grandma Annie was tiny, as many grandmas seemed to be, but she looked even tinier, sitting on the edge of the piano bench, hunched into herself, clenching a balled-up tissue and repeating, in her Yiddish accent, "Please, Got. Take me. I vant to die."

I was only twelve years old, but I knew about Grandma's depressions, about the shock treatments, about Grandpa Jack's drinking, about all the abuse, about Mom's aggravation and disillusionment, about Dad's silent treatment. Maybe I knew more than I should have but maybe not enough. Still, it was exasperating watching this drama, for that's how I saw it - as the act of a sixty-five year old woman-child, pleading for attention.

I figured I'd put an end to her keeping everyone captive with worry and concern. I had gone into the kitchen and mixed up a batch of generic grape Kool-Aid. I poured it into a glass and brought it back to her in the living room, where my mother and father, and my aunt and uncle and brother, were sitting helplessly as Grandma was sobbing and fidgeting and begging to die.

"C'mon, Grandma. Drink it!" I ordered her again, as I made her grasp the glass. "It's poison. If you want to die, go ahead and drink it down."

A horrified gasp from my parents were followed by screams of "You're nuts!" and "What are you doing?" and "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Go ahead, Grandma. Drink it all!" I shouted.

But she didn't. My mother jumped up and whisked the glass away..

"You see, Mom? It's all an act."

She gave me the dirtiest of looks. Then, out of earshot of the others, she hissed, "You're a crazy bastard. You know that?"

"Yeah, well ... I guess Grandma didn't want to die after all."

After that day, Grandma Annie never tried pulling off that "Let me die" routine again. At least when I was around.

Appeared in Grassroot Reflections Issue 49, February 2019

Original / July 21, 2008 .. Rev 2 / February 20, 2010

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February, 2010…Copyright © 2010, Lloyd B. Abrams
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