When she answers you can sense the heaviness in her voice: words struggling just to make it out and be heard. She’s old. Two heart surgeries, a pacemaker, knee surgery, diabetes, muscle loss… Put all of these things together and you’ll hear her voice, “Are you coming to the doctor with me again?” she asks. She’s the only grandma you’ve ever known. Could you ever say no? “Of course grandma, I’ll be there in an hour.” Three hours later her “eye doctor” will tell her she’s developed Glaucoma. Her teary eyes stare deep into yours, and you hear that same tired voice again; this time it breaks a little, “I’m g gonna g go b blind, now.” You sit there choking with despair and your heart breaks, but there’s nothing you can do for her… Sorry grandma. I wish it were me, and not you.

The drive back home is never this quiet. Today we listen to music – old ballads and Cuban jazz – while we stare quietly ahead. She wants to say something, or maybe cry ‘till the tears dry out, but nothing happens. Esther Phillips comes on the radio; the song’s called “try me.” She looks at it, turns the volume down, and staring out the window says, “It’s a shame about her.” She says something else, but I can’t make it out. I keep driving while that song plays and we pass cows and sheep on the side of the road. “I don’t have much time,” she says, and wipes some tears off with tissue paper I keep on the dashboard. “No one’s sure, grandma. Who knows? You could have much more time than me.” I say. The words echo, and I don’t believe them. I’ll never be good at consoling anyone. It’s never been more obvious. She still cracks a smile, and says “thanks, son,” but there’s still some tension and sadness trapped in her words. She cries quietly – embarrassed really – for the rest of the drive, and doesn’t say a word; neither do I.

We get home, and it begins to rain. I help her out of the car, and as we walk to the door she asks if I’m hungry. The answer doesn’t matter to her. She’ll cook something anyway, so I say yes, “I’m starving, grandma. What do you got in mind?” she smiles and says, “It’s a surprise.”