Grandmother Who Cried Wolf

Guess I'm no longer the biggest drama queen in the family.

Hell, I'm not even in the top three. I'll leave it to you to decide who carries the prize though.

My grandmother can hardly be considered a spring chicken these days - and sooner or later, I know we'll have to deal with her leaving us for greener heavenly pastures. Blame it on the job. Working with death on a daily basis, I can't help feeling a bit morbid sometimes. Though she might picture seriously dull evenings strumming celestial harps in the future, I know she deserves that final eternal rest after decades of caring for the lot of us ungrateful ingrates.


Musings...
Of course I've come to realize that not everyone's quite as ready to let her go as yet.

Finding a quiet moment in the day, my grandmother tugged me back into her kitchen domain to recount a hilarious experience she had two weeks back. Practically bursting with hidden glee which boded ill for my cousins. Feeling particularly lethargic that morning a sennight past, she stayed in bed for an extra hour refusing to leave the bed - till one of my overanxious cousins came knocking insistently on her bedroom door.

Let's just say that short of a sledgehammer to the head, Macho Mike simply doesn't take subtle hints.

Grandmother : Leave me be. I'm tired.
Mike : Are you ill?
Grandmother : Just can't move.
Mike : Are you dying?
Grandmother : Yes, I am. I find my vision blurring slowly... I think I might be going...
Mike : What?! What!
Grandmother : It's time. So sad I have to go. Take my diamond necklace, give it to your third aunt. She bought it for me five years ago.
Mike : No, grandma, you can't leave us!

Seriously. And that was just the beginning.

According to my astonished grandmother, my surprisingly doltish but hugely sentimental clod of a cousin re-enacted a lachrymose sob-fest scene straight out of a Korean tearjerker, dragging her out of bed to clasp her into his beefy arms while wailing away. As everyone here would know, hysteria breeds easily and soon it spread easily to infect my female cousins who hurried into the room to join in the growing dramatics.

Stronger minds prevailed however ( though I'm not sure exactly who that was ) and they finally managed to make it to the hospital without further mishap - with my awakened grandmother protesting all the way. No doubt my cousins were standing outside the emergency room dressed in funereal black singing a mournful dirge.

Where the doctor pronounced her full recovery ( resurrection? ).

Paul : You are monstrous. Don't try that on me.
Grandmother : Tee hee. But I did feel giddy that day.
Paul : I'm sure you did.