Friday, January 16, 2015
Today is my Grandma's birthday. I think about her a lot when January 16th comes around, but the truth is I think about her all of the time. I miss her so much and sometimes I close my eyes and I can take myself back to memories of her and her house.
My memory usually starts with my sister and I in the bed in the middle bedroom. Grandma has tucked us into bed and she is sitting next to the bed telling us a bedtime story that involves children who went on great adventures and my favorite story ever, the story of the mom and dad that ordered their children from the Sears Roebuck catalog. We were the lucky ones and got to sleep in the bedroom and so I wake up to voices coming from somewhere. It is still dark in the room so I think it is the middle of the night, but you realize the shade is down and the voices are coming from Grandma and whoever else is awake drinking coffee on the front porch. I listen for a few minutes but then realize you have no idea who or what they are talking about so you drift back to sleep with their voices in the background. My memory quickly shifts to the fact that sleeping in the bedroom is a rare occasion and I am usually sleeping in the family room with at least two other kids. I am asleep on the blue flowered couch by the wall. I wake up to voices coming from the dinning room. Light fills the room because the glass door and windows in the family room do not have window coverings, so you at least know it is morning. There is a smell of bacon and coffee in the air and you try to go back to sleep but then you hear that the conversation has turned to politics or problems within the church and you know that Grandma is about to get feisty and the volume is about to get crazy in there. I hear the door between the kitchen and family room creak close and I have hope that I may be able to get back to sleep. The door creaks back open and I know it was just someone getting something out of the pantry and my hope of going back to sleep is over. I know then that I wished they would just be quiet, but now in my memory I long for her to keep talking. I get up and go into the kitchen/dining room and my Grandma wants to know if I am ready for her to make my poached egg. I walk to go to the bathroom first and I know without a doubt that I will hear the dishes clank as I pass the china cabinet. I turn the corner and look down the hallway and see their most prized earthly possessions, the hallway is lined with pictures of their grandkids. I will pass the middle bedroom and be envious of whoever was still getting to sleep. I somehow knew in that moment that these small details were being forever etched in my memory.
I am now in the bathroom but my memory shifts once again. I am a teenager. I am looking in the mirror and I am crying. I can hear my mom and Grandma at the kitchen table and through the paper thin wood paneling I can hear them talking. They are talking about me. My mom tells my Grandma that at great aunt so-and-so's house I got upset because the aunt made a comment about my weight. On the particular visit the aunt assumed I was the older one because I "was so much bigger than my sister." My Grandma was sympathizing with me. She was telling stories of how people used to say stuff like that all the time when she was growing up and how much it hurt her. I sat in the bathroom hanging on to every word because she got me. She knew the pain I was experiencing. I would get myself together and come out of the bathroom. She would then tell me everything I had just heard through the walls, but I welcomed the encouragement again.
I then see myself in college and weekend getaways to my Grandma's house. They lived about 2 hours from Nashville, so I would hop in the car some weekends and just get away. She would still make me my poached eggs and chicken and dumplings and would just let me sleep and relax. There was one trip to Grandma's that sticks out more than others. It must have been Labor Day weekend because there were several people at her house including my parents and sister and Jeremy and I had been dating for a while so he was also there. I am not sure who else was there, but I remember that the house was a little crowded. Grandma was acting different, She was getting angry over little things and got down right hateful with me about something so silly. Something was wrong with Grandma.
A few months later that "something" would be discovered. The doctors would find a brain tumor. We are all sitting in the waiting room at Vanderbilt. Grandma is having surgery. Because of the location of the tumor they cannot remove the whole thing. Grandma recovers. She is doing therapy at Vanderbilt, right down the street from my college. I am visiting her, thankful that she is going to be okay. A few years go by and the tumor has returned. The doctors decide to hollow out the tumor this time thinking they could get more of the tumor this way. I am a senior in college. I go visit her almost every day before or after work. We talk about my graduation and my wedding that will be coming up soon. My heart tells me that she is not going to make it to either of those events. I leave her room and she says, "I will be making it to your wedding" as if she senses what my heart is saying. Graduation day comes and she is is not able to come and we are still not sure if she is strong enough for the wedding. It is my wedding day and my photographer is taking pictures before the wedding. I am standing on the stage with my back to the pews. She is wanting to get a picture of the back of my dress. She tells me to look over my left shoulder. I turn my head and at that very moment the double doors to the sanctuary open and there she is, my Grandma. My brother is pushing her in a wheelchair, but she is there looking so beautiful and nobody in the world could of held back the tears that flowed from my eyes. My day was complete and now as I look back I am even more thankful for that day because that was the last time she looked like the Grandma that we had always known.
Grandma would start to deteriorate in health and slowly this strong and passionate woman would dwindle down to a skeleton of a lady bound to a hospital bed in their family room. I would go to see her and hug and kiss her and tell her I loved her and get her caught up on my life. She would grunt a few words and try to smile, but that was about all she could do. I would then have to leave the room and break down before I went back in the room because I already missed her so much. My memory then goes to May 16, 2004 and my phone is ringing late at night and the words on the other end would forever change us, Grandma is gone, We go to her house the next day. My parents are out on some errands, probably at the funeral home. I see a van in the driveway that says medical supplies. They are moving out her bed and I cannot bear to go inside. I want to wait outside but then I realize my Pawpaw is in there by himself. I bravely go inside and I feel like my insides are going to explode. Family and friends gather and we say good-bye to our precious Grandma.
I have to open my eyes now and return to the reality that she is gone. Tears are flowing once again as I remember how much I loved her and how much I miss her. I grieve when I talk about her to my kids because they have no idea who I am talking about. My emotions then turn to joy as I think about the legacy that she left behind for us. She would be so proud of her kids and grandkids and I look forward to seeing her again one day in Heaven. She has been gone 11 years this May, but she is always a part of who we are and she lives every day in our memories and in our hearts.
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My memory usually starts with my sister and I in the bed in the middle bedroom. Grandma has tucked us into bed and she is sitting next to the bed telling us a bedtime story that involves children who went on great adventures and my favorite story ever, the story of the mom and dad that ordered their children from the Sears Roebuck catalog. We were the lucky ones and got to sleep in the bedroom and so I wake up to voices coming from somewhere. It is still dark in the room so I think it is the middle of the night, but you realize the shade is down and the voices are coming from Grandma and whoever else is awake drinking coffee on the front porch. I listen for a few minutes but then realize you have no idea who or what they are talking about so you drift back to sleep with their voices in the background. My memory quickly shifts to the fact that sleeping in the bedroom is a rare occasion and I am usually sleeping in the family room with at least two other kids. I am asleep on the blue flowered couch by the wall. I wake up to voices coming from the dinning room. Light fills the room because the glass door and windows in the family room do not have window coverings, so you at least know it is morning. There is a smell of bacon and coffee in the air and you try to go back to sleep but then you hear that the conversation has turned to politics or problems within the church and you know that Grandma is about to get feisty and the volume is about to get crazy in there. I hear the door between the kitchen and family room creak close and I have hope that I may be able to get back to sleep. The door creaks back open and I know it was just someone getting something out of the pantry and my hope of going back to sleep is over. I know then that I wished they would just be quiet, but now in my memory I long for her to keep talking. I get up and go into the kitchen/dining room and my Grandma wants to know if I am ready for her to make my poached egg. I walk to go to the bathroom first and I know without a doubt that I will hear the dishes clank as I pass the china cabinet. I turn the corner and look down the hallway and see their most prized earthly possessions, the hallway is lined with pictures of their grandkids. I will pass the middle bedroom and be envious of whoever was still getting to sleep. I somehow knew in that moment that these small details were being forever etched in my memory.
I am now in the bathroom but my memory shifts once again. I am a teenager. I am looking in the mirror and I am crying. I can hear my mom and Grandma at the kitchen table and through the paper thin wood paneling I can hear them talking. They are talking about me. My mom tells my Grandma that at great aunt so-and-so's house I got upset because the aunt made a comment about my weight. On the particular visit the aunt assumed I was the older one because I "was so much bigger than my sister." My Grandma was sympathizing with me. She was telling stories of how people used to say stuff like that all the time when she was growing up and how much it hurt her. I sat in the bathroom hanging on to every word because she got me. She knew the pain I was experiencing. I would get myself together and come out of the bathroom. She would then tell me everything I had just heard through the walls, but I welcomed the encouragement again.
I then see myself in college and weekend getaways to my Grandma's house. They lived about 2 hours from Nashville, so I would hop in the car some weekends and just get away. She would still make me my poached eggs and chicken and dumplings and would just let me sleep and relax. There was one trip to Grandma's that sticks out more than others. It must have been Labor Day weekend because there were several people at her house including my parents and sister and Jeremy and I had been dating for a while so he was also there. I am not sure who else was there, but I remember that the house was a little crowded. Grandma was acting different, She was getting angry over little things and got down right hateful with me about something so silly. Something was wrong with Grandma.
A few months later that "something" would be discovered. The doctors would find a brain tumor. We are all sitting in the waiting room at Vanderbilt. Grandma is having surgery. Because of the location of the tumor they cannot remove the whole thing. Grandma recovers. She is doing therapy at Vanderbilt, right down the street from my college. I am visiting her, thankful that she is going to be okay. A few years go by and the tumor has returned. The doctors decide to hollow out the tumor this time thinking they could get more of the tumor this way. I am a senior in college. I go visit her almost every day before or after work. We talk about my graduation and my wedding that will be coming up soon. My heart tells me that she is not going to make it to either of those events. I leave her room and she says, "I will be making it to your wedding" as if she senses what my heart is saying. Graduation day comes and she is is not able to come and we are still not sure if she is strong enough for the wedding. It is my wedding day and my photographer is taking pictures before the wedding. I am standing on the stage with my back to the pews. She is wanting to get a picture of the back of my dress. She tells me to look over my left shoulder. I turn my head and at that very moment the double doors to the sanctuary open and there she is, my Grandma. My brother is pushing her in a wheelchair, but she is there looking so beautiful and nobody in the world could of held back the tears that flowed from my eyes. My day was complete and now as I look back I am even more thankful for that day because that was the last time she looked like the Grandma that we had always known.
Grandma would start to deteriorate in health and slowly this strong and passionate woman would dwindle down to a skeleton of a lady bound to a hospital bed in their family room. I would go to see her and hug and kiss her and tell her I loved her and get her caught up on my life. She would grunt a few words and try to smile, but that was about all she could do. I would then have to leave the room and break down before I went back in the room because I already missed her so much. My memory then goes to May 16, 2004 and my phone is ringing late at night and the words on the other end would forever change us, Grandma is gone, We go to her house the next day. My parents are out on some errands, probably at the funeral home. I see a van in the driveway that says medical supplies. They are moving out her bed and I cannot bear to go inside. I want to wait outside but then I realize my Pawpaw is in there by himself. I bravely go inside and I feel like my insides are going to explode. Family and friends gather and we say good-bye to our precious Grandma.
I have to open my eyes now and return to the reality that she is gone. Tears are flowing once again as I remember how much I loved her and how much I miss her. I grieve when I talk about her to my kids because they have no idea who I am talking about. My emotions then turn to joy as I think about the legacy that she left behind for us. She would be so proud of her kids and grandkids and I look forward to seeing her again one day in Heaven. She has been gone 11 years this May, but she is always a part of who we are and she lives every day in our memories and in our hearts.
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| Ok, this might be a little cheesy to post, but this poems seems like something Grandma would write. |
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