I am Mae German. 34 years old. Born in Mangatarem, province of Pangasinan. I was taught and trained by 
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Some-Kinda-Blog-Stop Grandma's Night Caller.
Some-Kinda-Blog-Stop Grandma's Night Caller. | Grandma's Night Caller. |
| Friday, 24 July 2009 | |
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The phone would usually ring between half past eight and nine in the evening. Everyday, Grandma would pick up the phone on her bedside table and they'd have their sweet conversation over the phone. When I hear her say her goodbye, I'd hurry up so I could put the wireless phone back properly on its cradle. It has become my routine. On Wednesday night, I know she was exhausted from the activities that we had. Her visiting nurse did her check up in the morning. She asked Grandma to walk around the room and asked her to sit when all she wanted was to sleep. But she never complained. In the afternoon, Olga gave her a bath. For Grandma, knowing how fragile and tired she was, that was a task. But she never complained. She would, but in a kidding way. She may be old but never grumpy. That, I may say. We brought her down for dinner, though she wanted to skip it. The weather wasn't really nice so instead of having it on the porch, we had it in the kitchen. There were five of us at the dining table. We had sausage, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Grandma had her usual dessert-- one scoop of ice cream (in reality, that was two). Upstairs, in her room, I changed her in to her evening dress. I had to make sure she's out of those pair of pants that she was wearing. She gets tired pulling them down every time she had to do her thing in the bathroom. I gave her some ice-cold water and tucked her in at 8:30pm. It wasn't long that she she fell into a profound sleep. Like a baby, she was unaware of what's happening around her. She'd usually wake up when I move in the room or when Sheba would jump up on her bed to join her. Not that night. She was tired. At 9pm, the call came in. One ring followed by another. Grandma wasn't moving. I took the phone and tap her softly on her shoulder. She looked at me, perplexed. Then she saw the phone in my hand. She took it and said hello. They had a short talk this time, said she's tired and was sleeping. When I heard her say goodbye, I went near her and put the phone back to the cradle. What happened next has almost made me cry. "I did not hear the phone ring," she said, there was a worried look in her eyes, as if telling me that she's wondering why. "You're deep in your sleep," I said, thinking that she needed an answer. "I did not hear the phone ring..." she repeated. There was something in my head that I'd rather ignore. There was a scene in my head, already playing. I had to stop it. "It's all right, Grandma. I am here," I said, as if I can do something to ease her from whatever it was that has bothered her. When I was adjusting her pillow, she took my hand. "Thank you," she said, her hands holding mine, "Thank you, dear, for waking me up." There was something in her words, her look, and her touch that I couldn't explain. All I knew was I had to stay close to her for a little while. So I stood beside her, touched her forehead, moved some hair back in to place. "He'd always call." "Yes. Your son. Reporting for duty, eh?" And we're back to our normal selves again. Chuckling. |
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