This week I lost my last living grandparent, my dad’s mom, my granny.
She had been in a nursing home for six years with Alzheimer’s and just couldn’t keep up the fight any longer. My mom called me on Saturday to tell me she had passed. She had been at peace most of the day, sleeping, and all her kids were gathered near. Hospice had given the kids some signs to look for that would tell them when her actual death was approaching and those things had started to happen. Swollen and splotchy legs, decreased circulation to her extremities, her toes started to turn purple, breathing was slowing, blood pressure lowering, her pulse increasing. And then, at 6:05 pm, she opened her eyes, looked at her babies; the children she had given birth to, their spouses and some of her grandbabies. One last look at her legacy, her family that she loved so, so much and then she was finally able rest.The Alzheimer’s had taken her from us years before, but sometimes on a good day those who visited her would be treated to little glimpses of the woman she used to be. She would laugh the laugh we all remember…kind of a cackle. Her eyes would light up when one of her kids or grandkids walked into the room. Somewhere inside her, I like to believe she KNEW. How could a mom ever really forget her babies? What it was like to hold them, their smells and smiles? No matter how old they become and what illnesses set in, since becoming a mom myself and knowing what a powerful bond that is, I simply believe that yes, somewhere, deep, deep down…she FELT their presence. I cannot imagine it any other way.
Those thoughts give me comfort, but they also make me sad. I grieve the loss of my granny but I also can’t help but project forward and think about that time when we all will return to our heavenly Father. What will that be like to not have my parents on this earth with me? How does my dad feel? My mom? My aunts and uncles? What will it be like to look into the eyes of my grown children and grandchildren and say goodbye and know that I won’t be seeing them for awhile?
Yes, those thoughts make me sad and if I allowed myself to dwell too much, I fear I would be consumed, but they are also a gift. A reminder that we are on this earth for such a short while. That in the blink of an eye our babies are grown. It reminds me to have patience…to pray more…to think about eternity and to celebrate the miracle of my salvation. To have more joy in my life…to embrace everyday. To hug my kids, Jeremy, my parents, my sister and all those that I love as much as I can. I am the firstborn of the firstborn.
Although these last 11 years I’ve lived in Missouri and not able to spend as much time with my family, my granny, as I would have liked, of her grandchildren, I was blessed by her the longest. I had her for 38 years. My childhood was made happier because of time spent with her and my papaw. These are the things I will remember…When I walked into her house, her face lit up. My grandpa was normally sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and she would be flitting around in the kitchen. She’d see me and my sister and her face just lit up. “Hi Shug…” (short for sugar) and hugs and kisses every time.
I remember her voice. I remember her deep freezer.
The sound of the squeaky lid opening and closing, the smell of the garage where it was plugged in. She lovingly kept it full of ice cream, fudgesicles & popsicles. We spent many summer Sundays at her house celebrating birthdays, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day. On those days we would all run around in the front or back yards. My aunt and uncles would play with us. Family get together’s were one of the most important things to her. I remember the feel of the wind in her front yard, the grass and the shade trees overhead. Her giant hydrangea bush that we would run around and hide behind and in, full of snowball-like flowers.I remember her sitting at her card table in the back room playing solitaire or working a jigsaw puzzle. She taught me how to play solitaire.
I remember the inside of her house and the noise and chaos of everyone talking around the dinner table, arguing, laughing and trying to be heard at once. At 38, I realize how priceless those days are. The joy of a big family that all lives in the same town to love and support one another and how blessed I was to have that growing up.I remember her broccoli-cheese-rice casserole. How good it was even on the Sundays when she forgot to add one or the other ingredients…
I remember Christmas and how she almost always cried every year after opening her presents. She felt so blessed by having her kids and grandkids all around. She always overbought and “underwrapped”. After all the presents under the tree were opened there were always the gifts she had bought months earlier and stashed away in a closet somewhere and forgotten about…so they didn’t get wrapped. But then afterwards when she surveyed everyone’s opened packages and she didn’t see something she was looking for… she’d go to the bedroom and dig around and out would come some special dolls, or figurines, or jewelry or other collectible items for all the girls…my mom, my aunts and my sister and me. I remember her taking my sister and me to the movies. E.T., The Fox & the Hound Rocky III. (Yes, Rocky III)…not a typical movie a grandma would take her two elementary aged granddaughters to see, but for some reason she took us. I’m sure there were others but those are the ones I remember.
I remember that she never forgot my birthday, or any of her kids and grandkids birthdays. It’s not the gifts that were given that stick with me…it’s the fact that she never forgot…for as long as she could help it.I remember that I was loved.
I remember the days when we all suspected something was “not right”; the forgetfulness increasing, getting lost out in the car while driving, her personality was changing and making her angry & sometimes mean. This was not her. I remember the heartbreak of my dad, his sister and brothers when they took her to the nursing home and she realized her kids were leaving and she had to stay.
I will never forget the day her kids brought her to my papaw’s funeral. She had been in the nursing home for awhile and didn’t realize he had been sick and in the hospital. My aunts and mom got her ready and once she arrived she just didn’t understand why she was there. Someone would lovingly tell her that papaw had passed but after a few minutes, she would forget again. Every time she heard the news, it was heartbreaking as she was taken to that place where grief is the most raw and untamed. Her little face would immediately change and she would sob fresh tears as she heard the news of her husband, of over 55 years, dying for the first time in her mind. It is that day I remember so vividly, that day of my papaw’s funeral and the pain on her face that make me happy she is with the Lord. That she is with my papaw, and her sisters and brothers again. I remember the day I took Chance and Luci to visit her in the nursing home. She loved babies and kids. Even though she couldn’t speak coherently most of the time we were there, she smiled and laughed at my kids. She held them and babbled to them. She managed to say how cute they were. She took Luci’s little shoe and tucked it away inside her shirt…perhaps to keep for a souvenir to remember her by, or maybe she thought it would keep us all around a bit longer…a stall tactic to keep us from leaving.
Yes, I think she knew deep down that these little people are a part of her. I wish they could have known her, and she them. I wish she could see my kids now and kiss their sweet cheeks and call them “Shug” like she did me all those years.
Chance Michael…the first born, of the first born, of the first born, who shares the name of her son, my daddy.
Luci Bella who has her blue eyes and loves to work puzzles.Anni Mae who carries part of her name.
Her first Great-Grandchildren.
The next generation of her family, her legacy.
A legacy that will hopefully love the Lord as much as she did and make her proud.
I miss her. I’ve missed her for awhile now…but this is a new kind of miss. The kind of miss when you know you will never see someone’s face again this side of heaven.
I am comforted that there is a God in Heaven and she is there with him waiting for all of us. I can just hear her now…”Hi Shug!”
