Ten years ago I was in between the summer of my senior year of high school and freshman year of college. I thought I was going into three months of pure freedom. I had my first boyfriend, a great friend group, and travel plans ahead. I never predicted that I’d wake up one morning with my grandmother dying in the living room downstairs, and that it would be partially my responsibility to care for her. To make things worse… my mom got her a bell to assist with summoning me at her every beck and call.

The relationship I had with that grandmother was complicated. She was a survivor of an alcoholic husband, had mostly undiagnosed bipolar, and was occasionally convinced that Jesus was in the room with her. At 18, none of that seemed to matter. I was simply angry and confused. Why was she there with us? She seemed perfectly capable of doing all the things she kept asking for. Three weeks in, I saw her begin to unravel. First it was small things like appetite and then the events grew. One night, I found myself alone with her and had to assist in a way that opened my eyes to the vulnerability of death. It was in these moments that I evolved from a selfish righteous teenager, to someone who understood that we all deserve to be loved, especially in our final hours. When we die, and we lose the abilities we take for granted, it’s up to our loved ones to remind us that our spirit transcends our bodies.

I’ve thought about the stories from her passing for years. I knew I wanted to take the evolution I had and infuse it into a character. I tried to write this, and tired again, but was stuck. And then the summer of 2021, almost ten years to the day, my other grandmother passed away. Her passing was a true celebration of life, a joyful mourning of her and her legacy. It was only after experiencing both deaths, that I was able to merge the stories and fulfill each of characters’ evolution.

Enjoy, The Last Bell!

-Via Lubeck