Remembering My Grandma
Today I find myself reflecting on matters of life and death, love and family, as my grandma, who was a second mom to me, passed away this morning. The day itself is comprised of ordinary things like making omelets and coffee, hanging up laundry to dry, de-pilling a bed sheet, and working on a craft project I'd planned to blog about this week.
The last time I saw my grandma was on one such morning, the morning after my grandpa passed away. My then fiance drove with me and my brothers through the night to be there with her since my parents couldn't get a flight till morning. I remember conversations and times of sitting in silence, but all of a piece with ordinary tasks--taking her for a walk around the block, adding a leaf into the table and preparing lunch.
The first time I was present with those grieving the recent loss of a family member, I remember then too, the gravity of the atmosphere filled with tasks like changing laundry over to the dryer and cutting up a melon so it would get eaten before going bad. Each ordinary action felt strange to turn my attention to in the context of an entire life come to a close.
My grandma was always an example to me of someone who loves not just in word, but in deed. She never shied away from expressing her love, especially of my grandpa, but it was paired with a heart for serving others and looking for needs to meet. She cared for both her own mom and her mother-in-law from home at the close of their lives. She cared for many other sick and elderly friends, and never willingly accepted the limitations that others would try to impose on her as she herself advanced into old age. I am glad that in the time since losing my grandpa, she was able to receive so much love from her daughters who each took turns caring full-time for her in their homes.
Among many other things, my grandma helped foster in me a love for homemaking. I believe the first thing I ever baked on my own from scratch was in her oven, and it didn't come out right, but she helped me find a way to make it pass as edible. She also encouraged my creativity and love for stories, helping me build a long house out of a shoe box covered in bark, and telling me stories about her ancestors to submit to the American Girl magazine for their paper doll series. I never sent the stories in. They are where they belong, in a photo album she put together for me. I'm very grateful for every moment I was able to spend with her.
The last time I saw my grandma was on one such morning, the morning after my grandpa passed away. My then fiance drove with me and my brothers through the night to be there with her since my parents couldn't get a flight till morning. I remember conversations and times of sitting in silence, but all of a piece with ordinary tasks--taking her for a walk around the block, adding a leaf into the table and preparing lunch.
The first time I was present with those grieving the recent loss of a family member, I remember then too, the gravity of the atmosphere filled with tasks like changing laundry over to the dryer and cutting up a melon so it would get eaten before going bad. Each ordinary action felt strange to turn my attention to in the context of an entire life come to a close.
My grandma was always an example to me of someone who loves not just in word, but in deed. She never shied away from expressing her love, especially of my grandpa, but it was paired with a heart for serving others and looking for needs to meet. She cared for both her own mom and her mother-in-law from home at the close of their lives. She cared for many other sick and elderly friends, and never willingly accepted the limitations that others would try to impose on her as she herself advanced into old age. I am glad that in the time since losing my grandpa, she was able to receive so much love from her daughters who each took turns caring full-time for her in their homes.
Among many other things, my grandma helped foster in me a love for homemaking. I believe the first thing I ever baked on my own from scratch was in her oven, and it didn't come out right, but she helped me find a way to make it pass as edible. She also encouraged my creativity and love for stories, helping me build a long house out of a shoe box covered in bark, and telling me stories about her ancestors to submit to the American Girl magazine for their paper doll series. I never sent the stories in. They are where they belong, in a photo album she put together for me. I'm very grateful for every moment I was able to spend with her.
Beautiful thoughts and reflections, Courtney. This made me think of my own Grandma Lizzie today -and the corner candy store she owned in New Smyrna Beach. How we loved that place!
ReplyDelete