Creative Writing discussion

This is a short story I have been working on for the last couple of weeks, I know it needs a bit of re-editing work, but here is it anyway for your opinions and comments, any kind of constructive criticism...


I am Emma, and here I am at a funeral trying to remember why. I feel like I was sleeping and my eyes just popped open now. The weather looks cold but the truth is I don't feel cold at all. The sky is dark. A group of people standing, some, I know, some, I don't. All my family is here. Men are wearing black suits with white shirts and black ties and women, mostly with black dresses and coats, big black sunglasses even though it is drizzling. Somehow, I know I don't belong here, I do not want to be here. I feel like I am floating and watching the crowd from up above. I don't feel sad, in fact, I don't feel anything. Why am I even here? The last thing I can remember is the Christmas, which was just two days ago, the Christmas I worked so hard to be the ones like we used to have, when I was a little kid. I can't remember much after that. I can see the pain on the tear shed faces and bloodshot eyes. Shouldn't I feel sad as well? The priest is talking right next to the big casket. I am trying to concentrate on what he has been saying, but I can't, there is a murmur of sobs, sniffles, cries and moans that swept around the graveyard. I look at my mum, she isn't even looking at me, did I do something wrong? I should try harder to concentrate and remember...

Two days ago...On the Christmas day, I was just coming out of the super market when my phone rang, it always rings in the moments that are impossible to answer. I was rushing to My Grandmother's care centre for her Christmas surprise. Hands full of market bags, I picked up "Yes mom! I am about to be there. I know I am late, sorry! Yes mom, I got her the chocolates, yes, her favourite ones! Ok mom, I am hanging up, getting in the car now." My tiny car was full of Christmas decorations, presents and the market bags. I was anxious and a little nervous both because I was late, and also I was worried about how grandma would respond.

My grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer disease a few years ago. We didn't know much about the disease, and it took several doctors and months to confirm the Diagnose. It was quite a shock to us, one morning, we got a call from my aunt, she told mum that she found grandma in the tub laying down with her pyjamas wet all over, and had no idea why and how she was there or where she was. She got a severe cold as a result, took some time to recover, with that she started to live with us. However, I got to admit, it was pretty tough on my mother. She had a nurse to help her during the day but grandma became more and more suspicious everyday that the nurse would feed her something bad. Every medication she needed to take became a challenge after sometime. And mum had to quit her job, the one she worked so hard to get and loved, and she had to take care of her. She also had to deal with the rest of us, me, my older sister, dad, and we were just living our own lives as if nothing has seriously changed. So the expected happened after unexpectedly long three years, my mum said she can't take it anymore, she was very sad but also very spent that she had to make the decision for her own health and grandma’s sake. My grandma was moved to a care centre. Her disease progressed pretty fast in three years, and she was somewhere in between stage 4&5 out of 7 stages. She was disoriented. Recent conversations and events were increasingly forgotten. She wasn’t even able to cook the basic meals, unable to recall personal history details, but she still remembered herself and significant family members. She was a withdrawal. I knew this was very difficult for her. She was the strong one all her life, always prayed the God for not letting her to live too long to be a burden to anybody, and now she needed to accept help. She has become "the burden", was how she called the situation in early days of her disease. The first thing we learnt after moving her to a care centre was the importance of seeing her on the regular basis. That's how I ended up in her room almost every night all through the week, to solve her favourite crossword puzzles, to take her for short or long walks if the weather is good in the big garden of the centre, or to the town for her favourite ice cream, or just for shopping for birthday cards for her grandchildren. Of course she wasn't remembering any dates anymore, the idea of making some grandchildren happy, was making her happy. After spending some time together, sometimes exhausted but with a big smile or sometimes with a frustrated expression on her face, I was heading home.
On one of those days we spent in her room because of the rain, and she didn't want to be in the common room. I brought her a new stack of photos to stick in her notebook with notes about them. The notebook was her secret weapon, she used to tell me, for the days to come, they started to prepare it with mum on the early days of her disease, for her to look up the photos and the stories written for them so that she could recall some personal details of her family and friends. Lately, we were just looking at them, and I was telling her the stories of the people in the photos, adding them to her notebook, and she was listening with no sign of attaching herself to them. I knew she liked to listen to the stories of the people in the photos. I wasn’t sure if she was aware of them being her own family photos. I as a baby, mum as a young woman or a teenager, her cousin, her best friend... I was talking about one of the photos, when I saw the pain in her eyes, she didn't say anything, trying to hide the look. She was looking at our photograph next to a Christmas tree. I was 8 years old. We were decorating the Christmas tree. The photo was taken by mum. I remembered the photograph immediately even though it was taken 20 years ago, that was one of my favourite moments. That was the first time grandma let me help to decorate the Christmas tree. I had been watching for years from the corner of the room and never was allowed to touch because I had been too young. As soon as I saw the photograph I said, “Oh God! I remember that day as it was yesterday. It was my favourite Christmas ever.” She stared into space and said that she never remembers any of those now and wishes she could have those memories. That's when I decided that she maybe cannot remember how it was but she sure can have a new memory of it. It took me two weeks, a lot of begging and a promise of few weeks volunteering at the centre to persuade the manager for a small tree in grandma’s room and a few family members visiting her in her own room instead of the common area. However we had to keep it down and arrive late from the back entrance so that they could pretend like they didn’t know any of this.

I finally arrived at the car park of the care centre. It was an old stone mansion with a colourful garden in the front which is one of the reasons we liked this place. The back was just the big grey car park, mostly empty during the week days, but had quite a few cars tonight. I parked to my usual spot, by chance it was still empty, and I was grateful for that thinking about the things I had to carry. It was the closest one to the back entrance. I walked through the door, greeted the security and gave him my car keys. Harry was on duty usually from Tuesday until Friday in the evenings, a chubby guy, with a very welcoming smile. He promised to help me to carry the things earlier, especially the big Christmas tree. I passed by the nurse's desk. Veronica called me. She is my grandmother’s usual nurse and was on duty for tonight as well, she told me that grandma was nervous and moody for the last two hours. "Sorry Veronica I am late today, stuck in the traffic, the Christmas madness and also with the snow" She smiled back. There was a big decorated Christmas tree in the common room and a few gathered groups, families and caretakers but nothing fancy, you may still call it very silent. The patients here were usually disconnected from each other, I greeted a few and passed by to take the lift to the third floor. The hall was even quieter than downstairs as if it was an ordinary evening, “how sad!” I thought. This was supposed to be a happy day filled with blessings.

I watched Grandma through the square window on her room's door. She was sitting in the big armchair next to the window, looking outside, watching the snow, her eyes empty. Her face was blank, neither happy nor sad. I knocked on her door, and pushed it open. She smiled when she saw me, not a smile saying that she knows me but one to let me know she is used to having me around. Then she turned back to where she was staring. It wasn’t totally dark, so I offered her to go out for a short walk in the untouched garden covered with white powder snow, she wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but I gave her no choice as I needed to give Harry some time to carry the tree and some of the packages. The hospital staff was very helpful and excited about what I tried to do for her but they were also worried about the result as sometimes too many visitors could a serious problem caused by anxiety and they were also worried about me in case of any disappointment. After that, my mum and sister were going to take over and decorate the room while I was keeping grandma busy. I insisted her to put on a nice dress and a cardigan just before her coat, to be safe and warm outside. She didn’t protest much as she got used to my weird demands. I knew she hated to wear the woven hat, worrying about her hair, I promised to tidy it when we were back and finally we were out of her room on our way downstairs.

We spent some peaceful time in the garden. She seemed happy, as happy as she can be or seen given the circumstances. And when I got the signal from my mum, I let grandma in through the main door. We stopped by the big refreshment room downstairs and tidied her hair and looks, as promised, just before she passed the door of the common room. I decided to give her a little clue before we arrived at the third floor just in case it could be too much for her all at once. So when we arrived in her room, it was all colourful lights from the decorated Christmas tree and looked amazing even in a care centre room. The decorations were from my mother's treasury. There was a very light music spilling out of the room, chorus singing. Mum was waiting next to the big tree. Grandma gave her a warm hug. They were both smiling, smiles that touch your heart, there were lots of small boxes under the tree, so grandma turned and asked if we are to expect anyone else. We helped her to sit on her big arm chair, and she started to wait. It was the first time after so long, that she couldn’t take her eyes off of the door to see who will come in next. Her eyes were not empty but curious mixed with anxiety which I guess was, the worry she had about recalling the person that will arrive. Our small group of guests started to arrive. First guest was my sister’s 5 years old daughter. She was practically in love with my grandma but had a few disappointments in the last few years because grandma was very distant. Grandma really loved her when she was a little baby as she was her first and only great-grand daughter. Amy came in, her eyes opened huge and smiled with the joy in the sight of the amazing tree. She moved hesitantly to my grandma, when she saw grandma opened her arms to greet her. She literally jumped on her lap and gave a big hug and started to ask questions about the tree and the presents. We laughed and the other guests came in one by one, some of my cousins, aunt, uncles, a few friends of grandma's, I watched her every move, every look. I knew she wasn’t recalling everyone, but it looks like she was happy with what she can recall and laughing again. I was happy. I felt, I succeeded. She had a new memory until the day she forgets all, and we got grandma back for at least few hours.
Guests started to leave after a short while, I realised this part was getting harder on her. She was happy and worried about losing that feeling so soon. When it was me, mum and dad were the only ones left, I went to her side and wanted to take her to her bed, I was thinking she had to rest and that’s when she had that odd look on her face and passed out. I panicked suddenly and frozen not knowing what to do. Her nurse, her doctor and a few of the staff was there with us. They responded quickly, took her to her bed, checked her vitals and gave her some medications and transferred her to the intensive care unit, connected her to machines with beeping sounds. After a short while her doctor came out of the room saying she is stable, sleeping, but they will keep her under control for the night. It could be a heart attack or an anxiety attack. They will see the results in a few hours. Whatever it was, she was safe, and we needed to leave according to the centre’s policy. They said they will let us know immediately if something happens, good or bad. We tried to resist but already broke enough rules for the night. We were not very welcomed. So we left, mum with dad and I in my own car...

I arrived right after mum and dad, parked the car on the street across the building and wanted to be alone for awhile so I sat in the car, I was lost in my thoughts, feeling both happy, guilty and confused about the evening. I got out of the car without realising and started to cross the street, it was too late when I was vaguely aware of the movement on the side road to my right and then the feeling was like flying high uncontrollably and thrown to the ground fast and hard. My first instinct was to sit up and damage control, I tried to move my head but unable to do so. People came running and was looking down with fearful faces asking me repeatedly if I was alright. Noticed one of them was crying and that’s when I realised, I wasn’t alright. The snow was falling on my face... The first image was the Christmas I had when I was 8 years old, the happiness on my grandma’s face while she was watching me decorating and then it was the happy feeling I had tonight while watching grandma. I thought about the beeping sounds of the machines and I prayed for her to be alright in the next morning. And I died.