Gaum
How do you write a story about someone who died? How do you write a story about someone so close to your heart, someone you know you will never get to feel or hear again? I don’t know. All I know is I need to. I need to write it all down. Maybe then, maybe if I get it all out I can stop crying. The pain will ease. Maybe then it won’t hurt so much.
She was 75 years old when I was born, yet I never saw her as old, instead I saw her as timeless. She was the person I ran to every time I felt lonely, the person I knew would always be there for me.....the person I thought would never die. She was Gretchen Dewitt Ackerman to some, she was Gaum to me. She was my grandmother. She was as much a part of my childhood as playing and going to school. Gaum saying that name now makes my heart ache. Gaum a name that came from childish talk. A name I know I will never forget, nor would I want to forget. I think if I ever forgot that name I would lose the part of me that makes me who I am, the part of me that made all my childish problems seem smaller. I can’t remember time when she wasn’t there for me in some way. Even after she died I talked to her, asked her for advice, I cried to her when I was hurt and confused.
My earliest memories with Gaum are playing jewelry store with all her costume jewelry. I remember all of the small details. If you woke me up at 3 am and asked me to tell you what her house looked like I could do it.
I remember that she always had a can of spegetioes waiting for me. I don’t remember her ever being mean or unkind to anything in the world. Sure she would complain and bitch but don’t we all? It’s weird even now, after 7 years after I went on my first date, got married, had my first child, and almost went through a divorce without her, I often wonder “What am I going to do without you Gaum? How am I going to live? How am I going to tell my daughter about you, about the way you were?” I was a month away from being 13 when she died. I didn’t find out about it until 4 months later though. It tore me apart. It felt like a part of me had died, and I guess in a way it had. I started going over memories and thoughts. I wanted to be able to tell her I loved her one more time. I wanted to be that child again. The child she held and hugged and loved more then anything. I wanted to go back. To go back in time before the pain, before one of the most important people in my life had left.
Every weekend was spent with her. We would go out to dinner, we would shop, she even took me to ride ponies when I was smaller. I remember so much yet none of it seems to be enough. 13 years isn’t enough memories.
My mother told me Gaum cried when I was born. She said Gaum was so happy. She told me Gaum loved me right away. Because of her age when I was born my parents were hesitant to let me stay overnight when I was a baby. As I grew old however I think they looked forward to me going to Guam’s as much and she and I did.
I was eight years old when I got my first pair of high heels. Gaum bought them for me after I pleaded and begged and sulked enough. They were red with a red bow at the back. I can still remember that day. I remember it like it was yesterday.
“Gaum can I have them please? I really like them and Mom and Dad won’t mind. Please can we get them?” “Jennifer no. You’re to young for high heels. Your parents would kill me.” But Gaum please please?” “What about these nice patent leather ones? They would look so cute on you. Or how about these sandals?” “No if I can’t have the red ones I don’t want any.” I was remembering what my mother once said. She had gotten Gaum to buy her a black dress by refusing to by anything if it wasn’t what she wanted.
Gaum sighed with a slight smile on her lips. “Fine if you want them that bad you can have them.” I guess she did spoil me quite a bit back then. “Oh thank you so much Gaum I love you.” I meant it to. I don’t know if she realized how much I meant it though. I hope so.
She bought them and I spent all day trying to learn how to walk in them. I tried in the grocery store, her apartment, walking around in her building. I never really learned to though. In fact to this day I have a hard time walking in heels. I fell quite a lot that day. She never once laughed though. She just helped me up and walked slower. She did say people were looking at us. I guess the sight of an eight year old trying to walk in high heels is pretty funny. I was stubborn as a child anyway, but I was more so around her because I knew she would give in. It never really took a lot to get her to get me what I wanted. She spoiled me because she wanted to see me happy. Even if that met buying me a hundred dollar talking doll that I broke a year later.
My talking cabbage patch doll. Now that’s one of my most vivid memories of her. I think she had more fun with it then I did. She brought all of her friends over to see it and play with it. Picture a woman in her eighties playing with a doll. It said stuff like “My favorite ice cream is chocolate”, and I don’t like broccoli. My cousins and I dropped it on it’s head and it started saying “My favorite ice cream is broccoli”, and “I don’t like chocolate.” To an eight or nine year old that’s pretty funny. To a grown woman who still misses that doll its sad though.
When I was eleven my parents and I moved from Southern California to Las Vegas. It’s doesn’t seem very far now but to a child who was leaving the only place she had ever known it was a different world. I never say Gaum after that. We met to come visit her once a year or so but we just couldn’t afford it. For a while after she died I felt like it was somehow our fault. If we had just gotten back to see her she would have known that she had something to live for. She would have realized how much I missed her and I still needed her. I still feel that way at times. I wonder if she died thinking we didn’t care, thinking we didn’t need her anymore. Just the thought of that breaks my heart. I wish I could have told her that no matter how old I got or where I lived I still needed her. I needed to know I had someone to run to if need be. Now I realize, through the pain, that she knew that. She had to know how much I loved her.
My daughter was born almost eleven months ago. Cheyenne Cathryn Gretchen. I cried when she was born. I cried because Gaum wasn’t there to hold my hand and see her great granddaughter. I cried because Cheyenne will never know Gaum. I cried for all that Gaum and Cheyenne will miss out never knowing eachother. I cried for myself. I always thought Gaum would be there when I had kids. I never saw her dying. I guess I should have realized it though. I knew she couldn’t live forever yet I never saw myself living a life without her. I still don’t.
When my parents told me she had died I hurt more then I ever thought possible. It felt like I would die. Surely a person can’t live thorough all that pain........can they? I didn’t know if it got easier. I didn’t know that years later when I thought about her I would smile instead of cry. I didn’t know that my life would go on even though hers would not. There will never be another Gaum, at least not for me. I wouldn’t want it. Nobody can ever take her place or fill that hole that’s will always be there because she is gone. But now I know how to deal with the pain. I know it does get easier and I will make it. I know now that I can think of her and be happy, I can look at her picture and remember all the wonderful times instead of thinking only about the pain of her death.
Gaum. A name that came from childish talk, and a person who made my life a whole lot better. I will love you always and never forget you.
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