Marigolds - Caleb McCreary (MONOLOGUE)

I remember when I was very young, and I was playing in your garden. I can vividly picture the Marigolds you were growing. They were red and orange, they were as vibrant as you were. I remember you holding me in your long arms, as I played with your dark hair. When I look at you now, I do not see her.You are not my grandmother; You have lost your beautiful hair. Who has taken your life away?

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.It’s my fault, really. Mom’s visited you dozens of times and I’ve come up with an excuse not to go with her every single time. I think the last time I saw you was two years ago on your birthday, right around when you began treatment. All of your hair was gone - and you were so weak.I was terrified. I remember going home and crying for hours after seeing you. I didn’t want to think about you being sick, I didn’t want to think about losing you.

I want to apologize for not writing letters to you. How do you write to someone who’s dying? Dear Grandma, how’s the chemotherapy? How much weight have you lost? How much longer do you have left to live?

Grandma, I can’t look at you. I don’t even want to think about the tubes and needles this hospital’s stuck inside of you.

God, this hospital.

It took me almost half an hour to find your room! This place is a hedge maze of diagnoses and spinal taps. This place smells like formaldehyde , and the fluorescent lights are giving me a migraine! You wanna know something? A few months ago I took the bus by myself for two hours straight to get here.I talked to that woman at the front desk who reeks of perfume --- and you know what? Before she could tell me what room you were in, I left. I took the bus back home, and thought to myself -- what was I thinking? I knew even before I left that I would end up turning back.

Is it selfish that the only reason I’ve visited you today is because you’re in a coma -- Because you have no possible way of responding? I swear, if I knew that you would get this sick I would have come earlier, I swear. It’s just hard for me. I hate seeing you like this. I can’t imagine how you must feel -- though. I bet everyone is treating you like a child. I know that’s not who you are. I know for a fact that all of these gifts in here aren’t making you any happier. I don’t know why anyone thought that teddy bears and cheap Hallmark cards would make you any better. I should’ve been here to offer you something thoughtful, even if it was just talking to you, or playing the music that you used to play for me when I was younger.

I’m sorry.

Anyway, I’ve brought you flowers. I know you can’t see them right now, but I hope that when you wake up, you’ll see them and know that I was here. They’re marigolds.