Grandma Mary

"Your name sounds like the name of a grandma," kids at school used to tell me. It was true that I never knew kids my age with my name; it always was the "grandmas." I was named after my Godmother, who also happened to be my grandma. Mary. That was my name. I never did like it growing up. I was convinced that I had the name of a woman far from my age. I felt like I didn't belong among the "Gabby"s, the "Olivia"s, and the "Isabella"s. No matter how much I loved the woman I was named after, I carried her name with a sense of unbelonging.

Grandma Mary and I naturally had the sort of bond that those who shared a name have, and we got along well. I always looked forward to her visits, and the chance to hug her and sit on her lap, though I did have a habit of messing with the time on her wristwatch as a child. As we grew older, I gained the capacity to have more intellectual conversations, and I looked forward to her visits even more so than before. These visits came to a close in 2015, when she moved with my grandpa to Nevada. A whole state away. I missed her, but she promised to visit often. Life got busy, and those visits never happened. Soon approached the "corona virus" epidemic, as it was known at the time. Grandma Mary became a loudspeaker for those who felt suffocated by the mask, and thus she refused to wear one as part of her self-proclaimed activism. My immediate family didn't approve, but what could we do?

November 26th, 2020, I talked with Grandma Mary on the phone as we were accustomed to doing frequently. Her voice was muffled by the ventilator she was attached to, and our conversation was frequently interrupted by the entrance of inquiring nurses. Grandma Mary had contracted the "corona virus" that she was convinced was fake, and was eventually forced to check herself into the nearest hospital after she discovered she was having difficulty breathing. Eventually our phone conversation came to a close, with her assuring me that the doctors said she would be fine in a week. Things were looking up. She would talk to me again soon. I handed the phone back to my dad, and only after doing so had I realized I didn't say the three words that are always anticipated at the end of a phone call. "I love you." Three words that had slipped my mind in the moment. I decided not to ask for the phone back, because it seemed silly to interrupt the conversation that had already started between Grandma Mary and my father over three words that are always carelessly thrown around at the end of phone conversations anyway. I decided not to ask for the phone back, but the "later" that she referred to when telling me she would talk to me later never came.

November 28th, 2020. Family meeting in the living room. After a moment of struggling to find the words, my father announced that his mother was dead. One of six million lives claimed by the virus that Grandma Mary assured us was fake. My decision not to ask for the phone back so I could utter my last three pathetic words to her ended up becoming my biggest regret. The last time I ever spoke to the woman I was named after, and I didn't tell her I loved her. The last words Grandma Mary heard from the girl who carries on her name were not the words she had wanted to say yet were withheld.

"Your name sounds like the name of a grandma," the kids at school still say. It's true. She was my grandma. I no longer dislike my name the same way I did before. Before, I never felt like it fit me. Now, it's a constant reminder of the three words I foolishly withheld. My biggest regret, though none know it. The regret lingers with me and makes itself known when I write my signature, when I introduce myself, and when the kids at school tease me for having the name of a grandma. The grandma whom I didn't make known to that I love.

About The Author:

Mary Johnson is a young writer from California who has previously received Fresno State's Master of Fine Arts award at their 2023 Young Writer's Conference for her piece "The Beauty of the Everyday Life." She enjoys spending time with cats, as well as baking and roller blading in her free time.

Socials:

@m.4.ryy on Instagram

@m4ryzj on TikTok