6 Feet Underground

Ellie Grimmett '25

“Hi, darlin’ are you home? I’m just sittin’ here watching the Hallmark channel. I was wondering if you could come downstairs and turn on the coffee pot for me? Are you home? Oh. You’re in class. Well just come on home when you can. Oh, you are home? Well, can you turn the coffee pot on for me? You’re in class? I see. I’ll just wait until you get home then, I’ll just watch the Hallmark channel. There’s just the sweetest movie on, they fall in love. You should watch it with me darlin’! Oh, you’re in class. That’s right, that’s right. Well, when you get home then. You are home? Well then, can you turn on the coffee pot for me? Okay, alright darlin’. Bye Bye. Just come on home when you can.”

I hang up the phone to text my sister.

“Are you in class?” I ask “Yes.”

“Can you go turn on the coffee pot for Memaw?”

“No sorry. Busy.”

Left with no other choice I leave my computer and as I walk away my teacher's voice seeps all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. I see her, sitting on the couch. Wrinkled skin blending in with the wrinkles in the couch fabric, whatever Hallmark movie she’s watching is on full blast. She looks up to the sound of water running as I fill up the coffee pot. I look into her eyes and for a moment I see no trace of my grandmother, just a blank stare through the frame of her glasses. Her trance flickers for a moment, then fades

“Well, hi darlin’!” Her familiar southern drawl fills me with joy as her voice, unlike her eyes, still hints at lingering happiness.

“Hi Memaw, I’m just turning the coffee on and then I have to go back to class.” I half-say and half-yell to her, at 78 her hearing isn’t what it used to be.

“Do you want to come watch with me? I’m watching the Hallmark channel. Do you have to go somewhere?”

Something within me sighs as I say “Yes. Sorry, Memaw. I have to go back to class ”

“Right, right. You just said that darlin’. I’m sorry. Is the coffee on?”

“I’m just turning the pot on now. Do you know how to turn it off? I really should get back to class. I’ll see you after school though, and we can watch Hallmark together then.”

“Well, come sit here with me darlin’! We can watch it together now.”

Eagerly patting the cushion next to her she looks at me, a hopeful smile spreading across her face but I shake my head no, and suddenly, the woman I was just talking to disappears again

“Sorry Memaw. I have to go.” And before she can say anything, I rush out of the kitchen and up the stairs. My teacher still droning on.

“Hi Ellie, it's Dad. Oh yes, I did call. I just wanted to let you know where everyone is. Mom ran out to the grocery store but I… I um. I’m driving home with Memaw from the hospital. Her back was hurting so I took her in just to make sure she was okay. She is. Don’t worry. Do you want to say hello? Okay good! Mom. It’s Ellie. Okay, honey. Here she is.”

“Oh hi, darlin’! Oh, I’m fine, just fine. Oh, it’s nothing my blood sugar was just low. Oh? Your dad’s just shaking his head at me. He’s sayin’ it wasn’t my blood pressure. Oh, I see. He’s sayin’ my back was hurting me. Well, it feels fine now darlin’! We’re just driving home. Will you come watch Hallmark with me today? Oh, you have class. Okay. Well, don’t be on your phone at school darlin’. Oh, you’re not at school. You’re at home? Do you have school today? Yes? Well, go back to class darlin’. Here Randy. Here’s the phone.”

“Ellie? Is your sister awake? Okay well, make sure she is. Okay, honey. Love you. We’ll be home soon. Bye.”

When I see her during my lunch break she looks different. More fragile. Like I could breathe a little too hard and she would crumble to pieces. She sits next to me and my sister, sandwich in hand, questions on repeat. We sit there, at the kitchen table, and watch as our grandmother disappears, as her soul gets buried 6 feet underground next to the love of her life.

That night my parents urge me to sleep with my grandmother. To her grieving brain the dark feels like a terrifying abyss, monsters from her past lurking in a black room, and in those moments all she wants is comfort. That night as I lay in her room, pretending to be asleep, I hear muffled cries from where she lays. I want to go to her, I want to hug her and hold her and urge her back to sleep as if she is a child with a nightmare. But, I cannot move. There is something about the audible pain that seeps from invisible wounds that makes me afraid. My grandmother, a woman I have always adored, a woman who has never been angry, a woman who would protect me with every fiber of her being is riddled with pain and there was not a single thing I could do about it So I lay there drifting off to sleep to the sound of an old woman’s pain.

“Hi there! Well I’m just sittin’ here with Cathy in the village. Oh no darlin’ I’m not bored, we went to church this mornin’ and now I’m just doing a puzzle with Cathy. How are you darlin’? Do you like livin’ in Massachusetts? Oh good, good. How’s school? Are you gettin’ good grades? Wonderful darlin’! Does Adeline like school? And are you a… sophomore? How’s school darlin’? Oh good darlin’! And you like Massachusetts? Well, I don’t know what I’ll have for dinner, I’m sure I have something in the fridge. How’s school? Oh! You won an award?! Let me find my little black book to write that down. I don’t want to forget that. And you like Massachusetts darlin’? Good, good. Okay darlin’. I’ll let you go. Talk to you soon. Love you darlin’. Bye bye.”

“Poor Memaw.” my mom says as she looks at me in the rearview mirror. Yes, poor Memaw, I think. She's fading, I know that. She’s becoming less and less of herself. She exists without a soul, without a memory, without a life other than the day she lived today and even that is fading. I know she is going. I can feel it in my gut, I know. I know. I know it in the memory of her tears and the permanent dent in the couch from her months of sitting. I know from the pain in her eyes when she knows she should remember. I know she's fading. I know she's already halfway underground.

“I really don’t think she’s doing that badly.” I say and look down to hide my tears.